Separate Lives
by Mylee
Summary: Follow-up to Breakaway...This story picks up nearly seven years after Jim and Trixie's break-up. What will happen when Trixie returns home for a special event?
1. Chapter 1

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter One 

The street lights cast an eerie glow on the uneven sidewalk, making the dark of the night appear uneasy and unpredictable. A blue plastic shopping bag caught in a light breeze blew across the seemingly deserted road. Rows upon rows of apparently deserted warehouses and other buildings sat on either side of the street. Most of them had boarded up windows or thick chains across the doors. It wasn't a promising section of town. No one loitered about. A broken down old Chevy sat along the edge of the road, sitting up on four blocks where its tires should have been. Spray paint marred its once-tan color. Even the stars poking through the puffy clouds above weren't as brilliant as they should have been. The entire area seemed to be painted in despair and desolation, without an ounce of hope or faith to soften its edges.

Well aware of the shady and suspiciousness of the surroundings but left with no other option, Trixie threw her shoulder against a side door of one of the warehouses. It took two efforts before she was able to break through the lock holding the door shut. Then she shot through it like the bullet from a deadly gun. She took time to slam the door shut behind her and sprinted down the rotting steps, taking them two at a time, before her foot fell through the last step. Grimacing, grateful for the black boots that protected her leg from what would surely have been a set of painful splinters, she tugged her foot out of it. Her feet took on wings as she rushed onto the uneven sidewalk, moving at as quick a pace as her shorter legs would allow. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She ignored it as it coursed down the side of her face. Her breath came in quick, sharp breaths while she threw a look over her shoulder even though she knew better than to waste the precious seconds she had on any possible pursuers. All she knew was that the plan had been blown to hell and back. The rest of the agents were engaged with the enemy while she had to follow her orders and carry what she possessed to safety, which meant that all she had at the moment was herself. There wasn't any cavalry hanging out in the wings, ready to assist. They were too busy on the front line.

A testament to her speed, she rounded the corner a few seconds later and headed west, down the long sidewalk and passed an army of seemingly empty and decrepit buildings. Only the headlights of a vehicle were showing up ahead, about a block away. She watched with curious eyes as the car pulled up to the corner and a trio of scantily clad women approached it. Deciding not to interrupt what was most likely a meeting with the prostitutes and their pimp, she ducked into a side alley and raced on. Only the pounding of her boots on the pavement was audible. Stopping wasn't an option. It was her assignment to keep the object in her pocket safe, sound, and, most importantly, out of the hands of the enemy. At all costs…which meant that she needed to continue, to get away, while the rest of her team hopefully kept the others occupied and off her back. The only deterrent was the fact that there wasn't a meeting place or any guarantee that she would have a team left to meet up with. Patting her pocket to make certain that the small disk was still there, she ran on, a lone figure dressed in black, and sent up a quick, fervent prayer for the well-being of the rest of the agents.

When Trixie was two full city blocks away from her starting point, she paused in the shadows to take a much-needed break. Pressing her back up against the building, blending in with the dark, she took a deep, fortifying breath and let it out slowly. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. With her senses on high alert for any possible sound or an approaching unwelcome guest, she pulled out her cell and quickly typed in a message, hoping that she would receive a reply. One came back a full sixty seconds later and made her face frown. "We know. Ten minutes. Corner of East and Chestnut Street. Be there." Her lips moved as she read the message but she didn't make a sound. Recalling the map of the city with a low, disgruntled groan, she lifted her eyebrows and damned her choice in directions. It was just her luck that she would have picked the wrong way to go.

"Damn it," Trixie grumbled lowly and peered back out into the night, giving her head a small shake at what she perceived as her stupidity and not a twist of fate. With her handy Glock at her side, ready for action if the need arose, she stepped out of the shadows and began to back track her path, her only choice if she wanted to make it to her rendezvous in time. It wasn't with speed this time but with slow, deliberate steps. She was heading back in the direction of the warehouse where any number of potential enemies could be searching for members of the group who had infiltrated their midst. After the way the mission had broken down from practically the second it had started, she didn't relish running into any of them. She stared down at the cell phone clipped to her belt, contemplated asking for more information about her surroundings, but that would only be wasting precious time. Her deadline was already ticking away. She didn't have a choice. She had to get there.

Reaching the corner a few minutes later, she veered off to the right, hoping to follow a parallel road and miss the street that housed the warehouse altogether. If she chose right, she knew she could be at the rendezvous point without coming into direct contact with any potential enemies from the warehouse. As she ran on, her feet slapping rhythmically on the pavement, she was brought to a sudden, halting stop. A loud explosion ripped through the air, sounding as if it was right next to her instead of an entire street away. Her heart raced with a mixture of trepidation and fear. Swallowing a shocked gasp, she stared up into the night sky and saw a plume of angry gray smoke rising above what would have to be the warehouse. Bright fingers of fire flew from the direction of the roof, turning the sky red into a horrifying display that would have brought any Fourth of July fireworks celebration to their knees in appreciation…but not tonight, not when it was the cause of something much more sinister and debilitating than a carefully constructed display celebrating the birth date of the United States of America.

Her stop of horror, shock and disbelief lasted only a moment. How she hoped that her team had made it out before the building blew. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that it was the warehouse. Ignoring her worries and her curiosity, she pressed on, another set of agonizing steps, and ducked into another alley that would connect her to the corner and take her even farther away from the burning inferno yards away. So focused on her pace, forgetting to pay closer attention, she was brought up short by a gravely chuckle from behind her, followed closely by a sharp sound she could identify in her sleep. It wasn't the low laugh that made her stop or made her face turn grim. It was the quiet click of a gun, undoubtedly aimed at her back.

"Well, well, well," a hoarse, satisfied voice declared from behind, as menacing and as dangerous as the sinister smile sloping across his lips. "Look what we've got here."

It took an effort but she stayed as still as a marble statue. Her blue eyes had widened but not with fright. Slowly, Trixie pivoted around on her low heels, her gun held hopefully, unobtrusively at her right hip. With a defiant toss of her covered head, she faced the man in front of her and didn't miss a detail from him. Muscular arms, broad chest, an ugly sneer, and eyes that seemed to gleam with an inner fury and hatred for her and for all that she represented. Keeping her face impassive, thoughts whirled through her mind. First and foremost, she figured he had every right to be furious with her,, and that only made him more dangerous and the situation even more tenuous. After all, he had a wiry strength she had tested and bested only half an hour earlier. The dried blood under his crooked nose, which was most likely broken from the heel of her hand, glimmered in the weak light offered by the odd orangey glow of an outside light above them. He had joined her in the office right after she had hacked into the computer and started to copy the information onto her disk. At first, she had believed he arrived to help her retrieve the information. It had caught her by surprise when it had dawned on her that he wasn't there to help; that he had, in fact, turned on them. Then she had fought and, with a smug look to her face, had won.

They stared at each other, sizing each other up, for an endless moment. "Adam," she declared after a moment, her voice as even and dispassionate as she could make it, and mentally drew up a list of the best choices available to her. Since she had worked with him through her training and her entire career with the CDA, she had knowledge of his strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately for her, he was one of their top shooters. He wouldn't miss, she knew with a sinking feeling in her stomach, should his finger itch to pull the trigger. It would only be a matter of where the bullet would be aimed and if it was a slow or a fast death.

"Belden," he replied with a sneer, his handsome face marred by the truth of his character. He ignored the pain that seemed to be centered on what was left of his nose, and grinned through it. A twisted, evil grin that lifted the fine hairs of her neck, either in dread or in dark anticipation, she couldn't tell. Adam couldn't have been more pleased to have run into her again and vowed to create a better outcome this time around. He touched his nose with his free hand and declared, "Imagine meeting you, of all people, out here. What are the odds?"

She ignored the question, not wanting to get sidetracked. It sucked facing down a former agent, especially one who had gone through the exact same rigorous training that she had. He would recognize every ploy she used because he had been trained in them all, too. Hoping to throw him off track, she started off with the truth. "They know, Adam," she replied easily, never taking her gaze off of his gun. It didn't escape her attention that he held it too tight, that it shook slightly in his grip. That worried her the most. He was on edge where the wrong word or action from her could snap him. Forcing her breathing to even out, ignoring the pounding that seemed to roar in her head, she faced him down, never letting her own nerves and fright show as she had been trained to do. The right moment would come. She had to believe it would or do everything she could to manufacture it herself.

"So what if they do?" He tossed back at her with a tilt of his chin, uncaring if the rest of his former friends and allies were aware that he had switched sides. Sounding tough, he added with a touch of insolence, "It doesn't matter to me. I've got a car waiting to take me away from here. I'll be long gone before they finish going through the wreckage of that building. There won't be much left. I saw to that. I did a pretty good job with it, if I do say so myself."

"You set the explosion?" Trixie jumped on the information he had let slip immediately, needing something to keep the conversation going and his mind occupied on something other than the gun in his hand. She kept her weapon pointed down, amazed he hadn't asked her to relinquish it yet, and quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn't currently in his right state of mind. Begging wouldn't work, not that she had it in her to beg or plead. Neither would an attempt on her part to turn him back from the course he had set with promises of immunity. All she had was the hope that if she kept him talking, he would make a mistake she could capitalize on or someone from her team would find her; whichever came first.

"Yeah. My final farewell to that damn agency," he replied with a hostile sneer and chuckled again, feeling immensely pleased with himself. His chest puffed out a bit at the realization that he had one of their top agents completely at his mercy. He used the barrel of the gun to rub his cheek and advanced two steps towards her, grinning when he noticed the way she poised on the balls of her feet, readying for action. Not wanting to attack yet, he stopped and contemplated her, pleased to have run into her again. "I only hope that the explosion I set managed to take at least another agent out with it."

She caught the implication. Despite her best intentions, worry flashed briefly in her sapphire eyes. The agents weren't just her co-workers. They were her friends. She trusted them as they trusted her. They were the only ones who knew the truth of about her and her job, who she was completely free to talk about anything with or celebrate another successful mission with. "Another?" Trixie asked with a growing feeling of terrible consternation.

"Poor Shane," he murmured, shaking his head with feigned solemness, uncaring that he had shot the one agent who had always considered him a good, if not best, friend. He hadn't even hesitated before his finger had pulled the trigger and had felt an overwhelming sense of power and rightness when his former friend's body had fallen to the ground, with a bullet straight to his back. He hadn't wasted time to check to see if Shane was dead. Instead, he had sprinted through the door because he only had a few minutes to get out before the bomb he set up was going to detonate. "I caught him by surprise. He was in-between me and freedom. One of us had to go down. Too bad for Shane."

Trixie didn't react, staying as stoic as she could. The guilt would come later. If she had taken Adam out for good when he had turned on her in that small office in the back of the warehouse instead of merely rendering him unconscious from a blow to his head, then maybe Shane wouldn't have been hurt. She thought of the disk which sat in her pocket, feeling as if it weighed a ton, and wondered when he was going to demand it back. Losing possession of it wasn't an option for her. As a well-trained and highly valuable agent, she wasn't going to give it up. Not without one hell of a fight or a breath left in her body.

"Gun, Belden," he said, finally noticing the sight of it by her hip. He pointed to the ground and arched an eyebrow when she stayed still and didn't make a move to comply. "I don't need to tell you what I want. Now."

With the barrel of his leveled threateningly on her, she didn't have much of a choice. Trixie crouched down carefully, moving as slow as she could without alerting him, and dropped it carefully on the blacktop. Her left hand brushed against the side of her boot. Palming something, she uncoiled herself until she stood to her full five feet and almost four inches of height.

"Now be a good girl and kick it over here," Adam spoke with an irritating cajolingness and motioned for her to comply.

She didn't let his tone bother her or the thread of insolent amusement in his eyes affect her. Instead, she kicked the gun over towards him, hard enough so that it was just out of her range but not far enough to reach him. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to make it easy for him. "Tell me what happened, Adam," she spoke after he raised his eyebrows in sarcastic delight at her tactic.

"What do you mean?" he replied with sham innocence and let the Glock lay between them. He hadn't expected anything less. Truth to tell, he would have been disappointed if the gun had reached him. "There are so many ways I could answer that statement. Why did I set you and the rest of our team up? Why did I decide to blow up the warehouse? Why am I no longer an active agent with the CDA? Or why did I shoot Shane? How about my favorite one…why am I about to kill you? I'm certain there are more questions," he considered, tapping his chin with his free hand. Shrugging a shoulder, he added, "I simply can't think of them right now."

"Take your pick," she retorted, her fingers on her right hand drumming in anticipation against her thigh, and overlooked his obvious plans for her. "You know me. I'm always curious."

"You certainly are. You have more curiosity than any of the other agents I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," he remarked, taking a step closer. For him the time was moving much slower than it actually was. Too caught up in his diatribe, he reveled in the dark joy of sharing his plans with her and forgot that speed was more important than gloating. "It'll make your pitiful amount of time left on this earth more interesting, won't it, Belden? I'll start off first by saying that money certainly makes the world go round." He almost despised being impressed by the fact that her face didn't give anything away. Not fear, not anger, not dread or even sadness that she was closing in on the end of her life. He couldn't imagine a way out for her. She was alone and unarmed, with no apparent way out. He let his satisfaction pour out through him. "And there is now a significant amount waiting for me in a bank account somewhere in the Caribbean. I'm looking forward to getting my hands on it."

Not if she had anything to say about it but she wisely kept that thought to herself. A toe started tapping. One thing she had never been able to completely control was her need to stay in motion, especially when faced with a high-stress situation. The smaller-sized pistol in her left was her ace in the hole. It evened the score, enough for her to hope that she wouldn't be on the receiving end of a bullet anytime soon. If that's the way it was meant to be, then she was taking him down with her. The thought brought a strange glint to her eyes, one that he didn't take the time to notice or ponder.

"So you were bribed." Trixie couldn't keep a strain of shock out of her voice. The fact that an agent for the CDA, the super secret agency that few people were even aware existed, could be approached and bribed by a member of the outside world was practically inconceivable. She cocked her head to the side and studied him, wondering how on earth that had happened.

Even white teeth gleamed in the night. Understanding perfectly, he answered her unvoiced question. "I went to them right after I found out about our target two days ago," he shared proudly. "And I'm now the proud owner of a couple of a million dollars, holed up in a special account just for me. I'm only a few minutes away from getting in that car and cruising away into nothingness. I imagine I'll be spending the rest of my life on some forgotten beach somewhere, sipping margaritas and enjoying the senoritas. It sounds like paradise."

"That's your plan when you leave here? You're going to try and hide from us?" Trixie kept her eyes focused on him, only him, and refused to give in to the tiny frissons of fear that wanted to overtake her. Instead, she stood straight and tall and continued on, speaking in an impertinent tone that she hoped would grate on him and push him over the edge, "Good luck with that. You'll never be able to go fast enough or far enough away. Like I said earlier, we know. We all know what you did, Adam. We'll find you. You can count on that. When we do, it won't be pretty."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He shrugged off her claim, secure in the belief that he would be able to stay out of their sights. His confidence was growing with each moment. After all, he had managed to mastermind the night's events, which were turning out perfectly wonderfully for him. "Whether or not the agency finds me, you won't be there, will you, Belden? You'll be six feet under."

"That remains to be seen," she answered neutrally, refusing to be baited.

He didn't like her answer, was expecting her to start begging or bargaining for her life. It wouldn't have changed his mind but it would have fueled his own ego. His gaze sharpened when he realized she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "Did you know that I was never a big fan of yours, Belden? Never?" he said, changing the subject. Staring at the deadly weapon in his hand, imagining the best place to shoot her, he observed her closely. "From that very first day I met you, right outside of the Chief's office in San Diego, I didn't like you. I almost wished I had hit you harder on the head than I had that day."

Keep him talking, keep him talking, she thought to herself, recalling the meeting with perfect clarity. It was the day she had discovered a bunch of truths: the truth behind her scholarship, the identity of 'Mr. Miller', and the reason why she had been enticed to move out to San Diego in the first place. "I never knew you didn't like me," she breathed out, pretending to be astonished when she didn't particularly care how he felt about her, then or now. She merely wanted him out of the way. A second finger starting tapping against her thigh while possible courses of action were considered and then hastily discarded.

"It was tough for me but I didn't let it show, not to you, not to anyone. I couldn't talk about it with the other agents, either, especially the ones we've worked with the most. Shane, Max and Jocelyn think you walk on water." He shook his head, remembering her beginning with the agency and how she had been welcomed in with open arms, right from the start. At first it had only bothered him to see the amount of time and patience that went into her training. He couldn't ever remember any other new agent having two experienced and extremely high-up agents training them or the lengths the agency had gone to to entice her to join them. The fact that she had bonded strongly with Jocelyn and Max had only sickened him more. His jealousy ran deep, for many reasons. The close relationship the three had was part of it, as was the fact that the trio was constantly handed the most challenging assignments again and again. Even worse, they had met every single challenge with an apparent ease that he found appalling and earned them even more accolades from the other agents and their chief. To his knowledge, Belden hadn't failed on a single mission she had ever undertaken. Having an unblemished career was practically unheard of. He let the jealously and envy show briefly on his face and smirked when she couldn't swallow back her gasp. "I thought it was sickening how the Chief and the others all doted on you as if you were the best thing to ever come out of our agency, like you were the second coming or something. It's only become worse in the years you've been with us. You celebrated your sixth anniversary with the agency this past January. I can't believe I've had to put up with you for over six years now. Screw that, I thought to myself," he spoke lowly and scathingly. "And screw you, Belden."

The waves of hatred he felt for her were practically radiating off of him in nearly tangible waves, turning his face a mottled red and his eyes into something that seemed to belong more on a demon than a fellow human being. She wanted to take a step back from it but forced herself to stand completely still. She never had a clue that he felt such powerful and negative feelings towards her. Clearing her throat, she gestured weakly in the direction of the burning building and chose not to address his confession. "What about tonight?" she questioned, her voice infused with strength.

He shrugged a shoulder. "My defection has been a long time in the coming. I've been getting more and more disgruntled with the agency. I hate the fact that I've been put on so many back burner missions recently." He shook his head, recalling his own track record, and went quiet. While it was solid, it wasn't impressive. It could have been better, had he been able to partner more with Max and Jocelyn.

She eyed him warily, not liking the silence he lapsed into. Uncertain if it was a good thing to prod him further, she murmured, "You should tell me, Adam. I want to understand."

"Don't play the understanding and sympathetic shrink with me, Belden," he warned her sharply. "You forget. I know all the moves. They won't work on me."

"You got me." She held her right hand out in supplication and admitted, "That's exactly what I was doing."

"Right." He laughed lowly, deciding that it didn't matter if he shared his plans with her. So it would take a few extra minutes. A drop in the bucket compared to the lifetime that awaited him, free from the agency that he had come to hate. "As I was saying, I wanted to leave and in a big way. I simply didn't have a vehicle for my departure until the other day when we were briefed on our assignment." Now that his explanation was starting to roll, he was beginning to revel in telling it, especially to her. "I knew it would need to be a team effort. Routine and quick. Break into the warehouse, copy the information on the main computer, and get back out, all without anyone being the wiser. It was supposed to take, what, a total of eight minutes, tops, right?"

"Yeah. That was the plan." The amount of time that had passed since the mission had started was nearing an hour. The seconds were falling away, like water through a sieve. She had more than missed her time for her rendezvous and wondered if anyone was looking for her. So far she hadn't heard any sounds that someone was coming to assist, which meant that she was entirely on her own. Her ears were straining to hear a sound, any sound. "It didn't work out that way, though."

"No. I made it happen." His pride was oily, slick, and made her skin want to crawl. "I alerted the owner of the building soon after we were briefed about the mission. I didn't tell him who we are since I doubt if he would have believed me. Instead, I let him know that his warehouse was going to be broken into. In return, he promised to have a welcoming committee ready, as well as my healthy bank draft for the information I gave him."

Since her point of entry had only been shared with her, she had already broken into the warehouse and had been on her way to the office when the 'welcoming committee' had greeted the rest of the agents. She had missed out on the ensuing melee although she had heard the sounds of battle behind her. As an extremely well-trained agent, she knew that her orders came first and foremost. She hadn't been able to leave her post, not until she had taken care of her assignment. "Thanks for that," she remarked dryly. "From what I heard, you and your friends were marvelous hosts."

Her response amused him. Feeling an unusual amount of power, he bowed lowly to her and laughed, low, long and hard. "I'm glad you appreciate it, Belden. It was the least I could do."

She didn't respond to his performance. Standing tall, she wondered, "What about the other agents? Where are they?"

"Shane is the only one I took down. The last time I saw him he had a bullet in his back and was lying on the floor." His words made her pale. His grin widened. It didn't bother him to have shot his former friend in the back. He would do it again if need be. "I have no idea where our fearless leaders are or the other members of the second team. Hopefully they're all within the burning confines of the building, becoming the main course for an early spring barbecue."

She couldn't control the way her face whitened but she refused to shudder. Showing any signs of weakness was simply not allowed. Breathing in slowly, she clutched the small item in her left hand and murmured proudly, "They're CDA, as am I. I highly doubt that. Adam." She spoke his name in the same tone she would use to curse, vicious and vivid, with a spark of defiance lighting up the blue of her eyes.

Adam didn't appreciate her answer. He narrowed his eyes, stared at the gun down in his hand, and decided that enough was enough. He was through humoring her or toying with her or whatever the hell he was doing. As far as he was concerned, it was past time to move on to the final act. "I'm through talking with you, Belden. I think it's finally time to end your career here with the agency. It'll be such a shame. A real tear-jerker. Promising agent, shot down in the prime of her career. I wonder what that family of yours will think when they find your body down here in Georgia? Any ideas?"

He finally broke through her steely resolve. She couldn't bite back the pain. Her family and friends had always been her number one weakness, one she couldn't overcome. Ever. The love she felt for them went too deep. Trixie did take a step back this time and shook her head. Her blonde curls slipped out from under the black cap she wore and bounced with the movement. "That's not going to happen," she declared fiercely. She would never allow it to, not as long as she had a breath left in her body. "It won't."

He disagreed wholeheartedly. "Yes. It is. Your mother, father, brothers and the rest of that damn gang you grew up with will be crying over your closed casket. By the time I'm finished with you, there won't be much left to see." He lifted his gun, leveled it at her, and smiled evilly, anticipating the coming minutes with something akin to misplaced glee. "Say goodbye, Trixie Belden of New York, and say it fast."

Her palms pooled with sweat. "Good-bye," she answered. She flicked her left palm up with a fluid swiftness that a gunfighter from the Old West would have envied. She was not as proficient with her left, was much better and more accurate with her right hand, but she didn't waste a single second. Her finger pulled the trigger a millisecond before another gun shot rang out through the night.

Two bullets were released, silent, deadly and aimed at the same target. One came from her. It slammed into his right shoulder and made him lose his hold on his gun. It clattered to the blacktop. The second tore into his chest a millisecond later, a bulls-eye straight through to his heart, and ripped his chest wide open, right before he fell to his knees, a look of unmitigated shock on his face. Something that sounded like a swear word came from him before he collapsed, face down, onto the sidewalk. Dark red blood pooled around him in a streaming river, painting the ground with its garish color, while he went completely boneless and didn't move. Even though she had seen more than her share of gore and death in her line of work, her insides started to quake. "Oh, God," she mumbled lowly, unable to look anywhere else but at her once-comrade, while the image burned unpleasantly into her mind.

"You did a great job of distracting him," a familiar voice announced from the shadows.

She turned, her left hand still holding her weapon. A wispy thin of smoke meandered through the air. **"Thanks. I guess," **she replied and strode towards him, doing her best not to look back at the fallen man. She concentrated on the man who moved out into the light. Inquisitive eyes scanned over him, noticed the bruises on his face, as well as the stain of ashes and soot across his cheeks. A makeshift bandage, most likely tied on by Jocelyn, covered up a wound on his left arm. "No problems, Max?" she whispered once she reached him. A nervous hand brushed a curl off her forehead while she waited for his answer.

He gave a curt shake of his head. "Nothing we couldn't handle," he replied, knowing that only a few stitches and a lot of antiseptic would help clean the gash on his arm, caused by a well-timed knife swipe from one of Adam's new friends. It had turned into one hell of a night. He started back towards the man he had shot and pondered where it had all gone wrong for him.

With her hands on her hips, Trixie watched him through large eyes as he reached down to feel for a pulse. Remorse flashed across his face when one didn't register. Understanding, she waited quietly by and didn't say a word. He, like the others, had always considered Adam a true and trusted friend. It would bother him for a long time to know that he hadn't been, not in the end, and that he had been the one to end his life. When he rose after a minute of quiet introspection and started back to her, she inquired, needing to discuss something else, "What about Jocelyn? Is she okay?"

He did his best to put it behind him, well aware of the fact that it wasn't good for his health or his sanity to dwell on what had happened. Adam had chosen his own path. There wasn't anything that could be done about it now. Clearing his throat, he replied, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep well for a long time to come, "Joss is great. No problems with her at all." He pointed to the pair of headlights that flicked in their direction. "She came through with flying colors. I don't think she even broke a nail."

Trixie released a small sigh. "What about the rest of us?"

The lights flickered again, urging them to come forward. "Come on, Trixie. We'll fill you in as soon as we get to the car. Joss is getting impatient. She's in charge of the wheels." He grabbed her elbow. Together they hurried down the sidewalk, away from the body that was just beginning to lose its warmth. She had to work hard to make her shorter legs keep up with his longer ones.

She couldn't wait until they reached the car. She had to know. "Adam told me about Shane. Is he okay?" Trixie studied him out of the corner of her eyes, hoping against hope that their friend was going to be all right, and bit her lip in anticipation.

"He's the reason why we couldn't make it to the rendezvous Jocelyn planned any earlier." He glanced down at his shirt, knew that some of the blood he was wearing was from Shane, and ran a hand through his hair. Wearily, he shared, "I found him and carried him out of the building before the explosion happened. He's already been taken away from the scene and should be at the hospital by now. He was shot in the back, by our lovely former agent back there," he explained, hooking his thumb in the direction of Adam. "Luckily, he is breathing. Barely."

Jocelyn rolled down the window and ordered them, her voice low and direct, "Enough dawdling. Get in here, you two. We've spent too long here as it is. We've got to get going. Now."

They didn't waste another minute and clamored inside the vehicle. Max took shotgun while Trixie settled herself on the backseat. After buckling herself in, she leaned forward. "You told me about Shane. What about the others, Max? How are they doing?"

He aimed an easy grin her way, pleased that there wasn't a long list of casualties. "Only Saunders got hit. She took a bullet to the leg and was taken to safety immediately. She's being seen to. We'll find out more about her condition and Shane at our debriefing. The rest are like me. A little bruised but relatively fine. The rest of the second team is already out of the area."

"That's good." She released a breath she hadn't even known she had been holding and let her body relax against the seat. She despised it when an agent got hurt, especially on one of her missions. This time two agents had been shot, which was practically unheard of.

While they were talking, Jocelyn drove the vehicle down the empty streets, speaking a mile a minute into her headset, as the building smoldered a few blocks away behind them. Sirens could finally be heard off in the distance. She held up a hand to silence Max and Trixie and continued, "Yes. I've got them. Both of them. They're okay. Adam's not." She shared a look with Max and sighed at his negative shake of his head. He had been a good friend, once upon a time. It was going to be awhile before she could reconcile the fact that she had never actually known him. "Yes. Adam's down for the count. The fire will need to be contained before it spreads to the other buildings. Have you already alerted the clean-up crew yet?"

With a nervous hand playing with the strap of her seatbelt, Trixie listened in for the answer. She heard the voice on the other end offer a decisive "yes" and felt a surge of relief. The 'clean-up crew', as they were affectionately referred to, would take care of the mess created by the mission. While technically CDA agents, they weren't active agents and didn't partake in any missions. Instead, they served as the liaison between the agency and any law enforcement agency they happened to come into contact with. Their job was to hide the work of the agents. They were excellent at it. By the time they were finished, the fire would be construed as an accidental blaze, most likely caused by faulty wiring, and Adam would be classified as a victim of a mugging. They wouldn't need to spin a tale for Agent Saunders or Shane since the CDA had taken care of them. No one outside of the agency would ever know the truth about the events of the night.

"And the disk?" Jocelyn repeated into her headset. She eyed Trixie in the rearview mirror and nodded in appreciation when she saw the moonlight gleam off of it. "No problem, Chief. Belden's got it."

Trixie accepted the protective covering from Max and slipped the disk inside it. Normally she would have been more curious about what it contained. Not tonight. Even though the mission would go down as yet another successful one, she couldn't help but be disappointed with the outcome. One agent in the hospital, another with a broken leg, and a third one who had gone rogue and had, subsequently, died. It didn't matter how she looked at it. It sucked. Pure and simple. Hopefully the disk contained something they needed once it was decoded and would make the hellish night worthwhile.

Needing a distraction, and badly, she slipped off the black cap from her head. Long blonde curls fell in waves past her shoulders. She watched Max lean over and place a comforting hand on Jocelyn's knee while she continued to receive directives. Her lips tilted up at the corner. The two were an even stronger couple than they had been when she had first joined them. She couldn't remember the last time either of them had been assigned to a different mission. Chief Ogilvie seemed to understand that their relationship was not a liability but a strength. They worked best when they were together and not apart. Trixie caught the way Jocelyn acknowledged his comforting touch with a small smile of her own before giving her full attention back to the Chief, obviously getting their departure plans from him, as well as the information on their upcoming debriefing. Deciding she didn't need to know all the particulars because Max and Jocelyn would fill her in on them once they stopped, she closed her tired eyes and pulled in her visualization exercises. An image of Crabapple Farm floated behind her eyelids while her smile deepened. Slowly, the stress and tension began to leave her while she let the rhythm of the vehicle relax her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Two

Emotionally and mentally exhausted from being awake for the better part of two days, especially after the rigorous round of debriefings the agents had been put through, Trixie exited the car, sent a weary wave to Jocelyn, and started up the sidewalk to her small beach house. The sun beamed brilliantly in the endless blue of the spring sky above. Shrubs and plants sprouted along the sidewalk and the front of the one-story house, a leftover from the previous owner's handiwork. Hanging baskets hung from the porch, gently swaying with the advent of a soft, light wind. Trixie had never had the interest to ferret out the names of the plants or how to take care of them. As usual, she turned a blind eye to the beauty twirling and twining its way around her house and stepped up on onto the porch that outlined the entire front of the cheerful white house.

The front door stood before her. Her feet were on the worn welcome mat she hadn't replaced in the two years she had owned the house. Absently, she stared at it, noting the swirling designs within the thick beveled glass of the window that didn't allow anyone to see inside and the dark gray color of the door which matched the shutters adorning each and every window, as well as the painted floorboards below her feet. The house, while a perfectly acceptable and nice place to reside in, had never felt like a true home to her. She merely killed time in it in-between her missions. At her personal request, she was kept extremely busy and never spent much time inactive. The constant challenge suited her, much better than the ultra quiet times at her house where the only people who ever visited were the friends she had made within the agency. Jocelyn and Max. Shane and Heidi. No one else. Deciding it was time to go in and see if anything had changed in the two months since she had been home, Trixie searched through her black carry-on bag for her keys, pulled them out with a triumphant grin after a minute of fumbling, and fit it into the lock. Once she stepped inside, she immediately turned to the small white keypad underneath a watercolor painting of a lovely rose garden framed in gold. The excellent quality of the artwork didn't register on her. Ignoring it, she punched in the security code automatically and then closed the door behind her with a satisfying click.

Silence met her. It was at moments like this when she wished she wasn't away quite as much. A dog, a cat, hell, even a goldfish would be welcome company. Anything besides the stillness that permeated throughout the house. As she always did the second she returned back from a mission, she stood in the small foyer and glanced around. The house had come completely furnished and decorated. In the time period since she had owned it, she hadn't done a thing to change anything within it. Everything with the exception of the few items she had moved in from her small apartment was in the exact same position it had been in when she had first taken possession. It had never bothered her that the elegant, fussy and feminine feel of the previous owner's wife didn't match up with her more traditional, country, and simple taste. It certainly didn't even come close to resembling the farm house she had once dreamed about living in, the entire way across the country. Her mind refused to conjure up an image of the man she had once planned on sharing the house with. Instead, she sent a dispassionate eye around the large room and thought with a sigh that she was really going to have to make it her own. Someday.

The house held a lot of promise, should she ever want to do anything with it. It had a sweeping, open floor plan where each room flowed gently into the other. The walls themselves were all the same shade. A nice, unimposing blush pink that she, who was not a big fan of pink, had never found the time or energy to change. The carpeting under her feet was white; again, not her preferred choice. And, again, just the same as it had been from the second the keys were handed over to her. The furnishing was plush and opulent, from the large, expensive sectional that dominated the living room area to the long, wide dining room table that could happily seat twelve should the occasion call for it, and on to the expensive and slightly outlandish figurines that sat upon the built-in white bookshelves. Paintings of various sizes dotted every wall. Some were watercolors depicting scenes of nature while others were photographs of famous places in the world. Passing a scene of Paris in the nighttime, she left the foyer and toed a footstool that was in the shape of a sheep. Trixie shook her head, wondering as she always did why someone on this earth would buy something like that or the matching Little Bo Peep porcelain doll staring back at her from a curio cabinet and then shrugged her shoulder. It simply didn't matter to her.

Moving on, she made it into the kitchen and dropped her bag in the doorway. Once again, it was quite large and more than she needed for the amount of cooking she ever did in the house. Stainless steel appliances stood at attention. Intricately tiled floors in pink, white and gray with a matching backsplash behind the counter greeted her. The counter gleamed with the sunlight streaming through a wall of windows that ran the entire length of one wall, allowing her to look out towards the ocean only a patio and a short walk to the beach away, and also brought out the swirls of gray within the white marble. The porcelain sink glinted from the sunlight streaming through the floral curtains while matching rugs adorned the floor. Carelessly, she passed by it without noticing and made her way to the French doors. After flipping back the lock, she threw them open and stepped out onto the stone patio, her favorite spot in the entire house, and let the warm California breeze greet her.

She leaned down, slipped out of her sandals, and crossed the patio. The stones, warmed by the sun, felt wonderful underneath her bare feet. She laid her hands on a low wall and stared out into the view her backyard offered her. It more than made up for the sheer amount of pink contained within the four walls behind her. A path she traveled well and often, one that led her to the sand and then to her own private beach, beckoned her. It amazed her to have the beach in her backyard. Grinning, she sent up another quick prayer of thanks to the wealthy businessman and his wife who she had helped on one of her missions. After she had returned their missing daughter, they had gifted her with the house. While the house wasn't one she would have picked out for herself, she couldn't argue with the price. A small giggle escaped her lips before she reluctantly resisted the pull of the beach and headed back inside.

Since her job required her to be away for long stretches of time, a cleaning service routinely took care of her home while a lawn maintenance business saw to the upkeep of her rather substantial yard. This time she noted the sparkling floors, the gleaming counters, and the streak-free windows. It always amazed her, the fact that her house was always so exceedingly clean. She wasn't there long enough to give it the fresh layer of dirt or dust to make it seem the way her house should be.

Feeling thirsty, she opened the refrigerator, which was nearly empty save for a few bottles of water and an assortment of condiments, and grabbed the bottle. Shutting it with her hip, she leaned against the pristine counter, took a healthy sip, and caught the mountain of mail waiting for her on the corner of the counter, where a member of the cleaning service routinely placed it after picking it up for her from the post office.

The sight of it made her groan. If there was one thing she hated, it was going through her mail. Most of it ended up in the shredder; some before she even opened the envelopes. "It's a good thing they invented on-line paying," she muttered aloud, which was her only saving grace. Everything was automatically taken out of her bank account. She didn't have to worry about her phone being cut off or her electricity being turned off. "The wonders of the modern world," she chuckled and meandered towards the pile.

After a large, satisfying sip, she set the bottle down and started thumbing through the mail. As it usually did, the pile of junk mail grew quickly, containing countless applications for credit cards, as well as fliers and circulars she had no intention of ever using. After placing yet another application from Mastercard off to the side, an envelope fell to the floor, creamy white in color with golden letters emblazoned across it. She knew what it was. A delighted smile bloomed across her face. She picked up the envelope, saw that it had been posted over a month ago, and took great care in opening it so as not to tear it. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she read the contents.

_And the two  
shall become one...  
Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Wheeler  
and Mr. and Mrs. Peter Belden  
request the honor of your presence  
at the marriage uniting their children  
Madeleine Gabrielle  
and  
Brian Michael  
as they begin their new life  
together  
on Saturday, the twenty-first  
of April  
at two o'clock in the afternoon  
The Manor House  
Sleepyside, New York_

Trixie traced the fancy swirls, printed in a lovely shade of gold, Honey's signature color, at the top of the invitation and reread the invitation for a second time. While she certainly did not need to RSVP in the formal way, it was wonderful to have proof of the upcoming wedding in her hands. "It's going to be such a beautiful wedding," she murmured aloud, talking to herself as she often did to fill up the emptiness of the house. "Honey has been planning it for over a year now. I'm surprised Brian hasn't gone insane from all of the preparations yet." Even though she had spent more time hearing about the preparations than actively participating in them, she was almost overwhelmed by it all. Honey, or, more accurately, her mother, was pulling out all of the stops for a truly memorable day.

She reverently set down the invitation. Forgetting about the rest of the mail waiting to be sorted, she thought back to her last trip home, which had been months ago, during the Christmas holiday. It had been too short. As usual. Only four days for her, much to the chagrin of her friends and family. But it had been terrific to see everyone again, even for such a short period of time, and she was more than eager to return home. She missed them. She missed Sleepyside. She missed…everyone. Staring out through her window, overlooking the beautiful blue of the afternoon sky, the Christmas holiday flooded back to her. Honey, excited, ecstatic Honey, had not been able to talk about anything but her wedding plans, in the way that only she could, while Brian, when present, had worn that pained, almost harried look that only a future groom could wear. Di had thrown out tons of suggestions while Trixie had been content to merely listen and share twin grins of amusement with Mart. Dan had merely listened while...she derailed that train of thought quickly.

"I can't wait to see everyone again," she continued. The wedding was only nine days away. She had been able to schedule two weeks off with the Chief which meant she was going to be able to help out with all the last-minute preparations the week before the wedding. Leaving her bottle of water on the table, she absently grabbed her bag and strolled back through the house before finally stopping in her bedroom. A king size bed with wreaths of roses and chubby cupids protruding out from the white headboard and footboard nearly took up the entire room. It was much too feminine and fanciful for her. After tossing her bag on the large bed, she walked to the matching ornate dresser, again in white with the same roses decorating the attached gilded mirror, and took off the baseball cap. Blonde curls tumbled out and down past her shoulders while she contemplated the old hat with an uplifted eyebrow. It was even more tattered and worn than when Mart had given it to her the summer morning she had first left Sleepyside but she refused to leave for any trip without wearing it. Without a doubt, she viewed it as a good luck charm. She would be wearing it on the plane ride home in a few short days. With lips curving, she laid it on the top of the dresser and accidentally knocked over one of the many framed pictures she had placed there.

Picking it up, she recognized it as one of Dan from when he had received his bachelors from Syracuse a few years earlier. His graduation gown was unzipped and his mortarboard and diploma were clutched loosely in one hand. A slight grin touched his lips as he stared at the photographer. Much to her dismay, she hadn't been able to attend his graduation because hers from California University had taken place on the exact same day. The Bob-Whites hadn't been able to be present for both and had to split up. The entire Belden side had flown out to California for her while the Wheeler-Frayne-Lynch side had celebrated with Dan. Her family and friends had been stunned to learn that she had been able to complete four years of study in three. She imagined that they would be beyond stunned if they ever learned that she had never actually completed any classes beyond the fall semester of her freshman year. Instead, she had been in training for most of her 'college career' while grades were entered into the university's database for courses she had never participated in. She had gone through the motions of her graduation, all the while feeling like the world's biggest fraud. The day after her 'graduation' she had been awarded full agent status with the agency. As soon as her family had returned to New York, and without her, she had been given her first true assignment.

Refusing to feel guilty for misleading her family and friends because there simply wasn't any other option available to her, she focused on Dan before setting the wooden frame down. "I'll find out how he is doing. He always has something exciting to tell me," she said with a sparkle in her blue eyes. His plans had altered somewhat. Instead of pursuing a career as a NYC police officer, which had been his original intention, he had gained the experience necessary and then became an agent with the DEA. He never lacked for stories and more than enjoyed sharing them with Trixie. Out of all the Bob-Whites, she appreciated them the most. She was able to reciprocate with watered-down versions of her own since everyone at home believed that she worked as a private investigator for Anderson, Donnelly and Christopher and didn't have a clue about her actual job. While she wasn't overly fond of lying to her friends and family, she wasn't left with another choice. It was a requirement, a very strict one that she had promised not to break. Amazingly enough, she had never broken it. No one had ever suspected anything different than what she presented to them.

She picked up a picture taken last May of Mart and Di. Both were dressed in wedding finery; Mart in a traditional black-and-white tuxedo and Di in a bright white wedding dress sparkling with countless beads and pearls. Tiny violet flowers were embroidered in her gown. Her long black hair cascaded beautifully down her back, covered by a long, wispy white veil. "Then Mart will tell me about his job. He enjoys working as a newscaster for our local television station and always has a ton of interesting stories to share." She shook her head, thinking about her older brother and how he had decided to pursue a career in journalism over agriculture. It fit him, more than she had ever thought possible, most likely because it combined his love of words with his love of Sleepyside.

"Di will then have to break in with a story about married life with Mart." She gave an exaggerated shudder, wondering how anyone on earth could possibly enjoy being married to her most irritating brother, and chuckled lowly. Mart still had the extraordinary gift of rubbing her the wrong way. Even with the fact that an entire continent existed between them, the trait hadn't diminished. She studied the picture closely and swallowed a sigh. The happiness exuding from the couple was positively contagious. It was almost tangible. Choosing not to admit the thread of envy that wanted to work its way through her, she thought about Di. Her friend hadn't veered from her chosen path. "Not only will she share some interesting anecdotes about living with Mart, she'll also tell me how much she enjoys working as an assistant to the curator at the museum in town."

Her fingers slid to the next picture, the one that held the engagement picture of her brother and her best friend, taken in the gorgeous gardens at the Manor House where their wedding would take place in a little over a week. Beautiful bushes of white, red and pink roses served as the background while morning glories wrapped over and around the brightly painted white arbor. They were another obviously happy couple, blatantly in love, and more than ready to begin their life together. She couldn't have been happier for her brothers. They both had managed to find their perfect match, right in their own backyards. "Brian's excited about completing his residency in Sleepyside. He was really lucky that they accepted him. It's a good thing Dr. Ferris encouraged it with the hospital board and took him under his wing." She knew that Dr. Ferris was hoping Brian would take over his practice when he retired in a few years.

Honey was the last of the Bob-Whites who had returned to Sleepyside after completing her schooling. Trixie stared into the smiling face of her best friend and murmured, "She loves working as an occupational therapist at the hospital." Her schedule was hectic but she always managed to find time for her fiancé, her friends, and her family. And she always did it with a welcoming smile on her face. Her job was fulfilling, challenging and 'perfectly perfect' for her, as she was apt to describe it. She had told Trixie on more than one occasion that she loved being able to watch the progress of each and every patient. Plus she enjoyed working at the same place as her fiancé, she would add with a twinkle to her hazel eyes. It made Trixie smile with appreciation.

The next picture carried the entire Belden family, herself included, with an aging Reddy at her feet, from the front yard of Crabapple Farm. Bobby, as the newest and last high school graduate, stood in the center, while the rest of his family flanked him. "I'm so proud of you, Bobby," she said, thinking of how he was in his first year at Columbia, where he was pursuing a major in computer programming. A gamer to the core, it was his desire to invent new games. Sometimes she had trouble getting beyond the fact that he wasn't the cherubic-looking six-year old with the soul of a trouble-maker anymore.

She nearly skipped the last picture, the one that was at the edge of her dresser. Part of it, the far right side, was hidden behind a nearly empty jewelry box that her Aunt Alicia had given her last Christmas but she couldn't overlook it, no matter how much she wanted to. Trixie took a deep breath, almost wishing she could face down another rogue agent instead of looking at the picture, and, with hands that she refused to let tremble, picked it up. It was an exclusive; a Bob-White picture, taken the night of the rehearsal dinner before Mart and Di's wedding last May. All seven of them were dressed up and were at the Lynch estate, standing on the stone patio out in the backyard. A lovely sunset in pinks and violets served as their background. She skimmed over the faces, starting with her own on the left side of the picture, until she passed over the rest and landed on the redhead on the opposite side, as far away from her as he could possibly be. The distance in the photograph was a fitting description for the status of their current relationship, if that was the correct term for what they had together anymore. When they were together, they were always friendly and polite, but they never actively searched the other out; not for a phone call, an email, a letter or a simple face-to-face conversation. When fate intervened and put them in the same place at the same time, and alone, both worked as hard as they could to leave the other without too much interaction. Cool, reserved, and merely going through the motions. Even after nearly seven years of having such an untenable chasm residing between them, the pain had never diminished. It reared its ugly head anytime she opened her mind and heart to him, as well as to the different choices they had made since that awful summer night. She hastily pushed aside any sentimental or regretful thoughts of him.

Instead, she concentrated on facts, exactly as she had been trained to do, and overlooked her emotions. Like her, Jim was another one who hadn't moved back to Sleepyside after completing his studies, although he was much closer to home than she was. According to both Honey and Di, who were the only two who ever brought him up to her on a consistent basis, he lived in a lovely apartment in the city, close to Wheeler & Hart, International, where he worked as a corporate lawyer for his parents' business. Not surprising, he excelled at his job, putting in more hours than necessary and proving to one and all that he had earned the job on his merit, not merely on his heritage. She had even heard rumblings from Honey that their father had offered Jim the chance to take over the company when he was ready to retire. Despite the fact that he was succeeding admirably, his choice to work in the business world didn't seem right to her, had never felt right to her, but she had never been able to question him about it again. In her opinion, and she was certain in his, too, the distance between them had become insurmountable to the point where it couldn't be breached. Not by a damn thing. Tears sparkled briefly in her eyes before she willed them away. She wasn't going down that broken road again. She couldn't; not if she wanted to retain control of her sanity.

To make matters worse for her, she was Honey's maid of honor, as had been decided that long-ago night during a sleepover at Di's house when she and Jim had still been an official couple, and well before most of the plans Trixie had created for herself had been blown to pieces. The girls had discovered during the beginning stages of planning for Di and Mart's wedding that the male Bob-Whites had devised their own system for choosing their best men a long time ago. Since there were four men, they had decided to pair up with the one nearest their age. Which meant Dan had been Mart's best man last May and…Her nose crinkled in consternation, wondering how the hell she was going to get through next week. At least she had her training to fall back on, she thought with a philosophical sigh and admitted aloud, "I get to be partnered with Jim."

She closed her eyes tightly, imagining how difficult it was going to be. The photo ops with Jim by her side were enough to make her want to hide out in her old bedroom at Crabapple Farm for the duration of her vacation but the thought of walking down the aisle on his arm and dancing with him at the reception for the first dance made her positively want to fade away into nothingness. There would also be the interested and speculative whispering behind their hands as guests wondered what had happened between them years ago. She hated being the object of gossip but there wasn't anything she could do about it. She may work for the most prestigious, secretive and powerful law enforcement agency in the world but her years of experience meant nothing when facing one James Winthrop Frayne, II.

Because she wanted to drop the picture like it was a hot coal, she took a much longer amount of time and carefully arranged it behind the jewelry box before turning away from her dresser. Biting her lip, doing the best she could do not to think about _him_, she studied the room and caught her bag, lying on her bed. Unpacking would keep her busy. She had almost reached it when her cell phone gave out its cheerful chirp. A phone call was even better than going through her bag. Rummaging, she pulled it out and answered with an almost desperate gratitude. "Hello?"

"Hey, Trix!" Honey chirped out merrily on the other end. She switched off her car radio and pulled out onto Main Street, heading home after a long shift at the hospital. She only had to face Friday before she would be off for three blissful weeks. The first week of her vacation was strictly for wedding preparations. The other two weeks…she sighed dreamily. Her honeymoon in Antigua, with the most handsome man in the entire world. She could hardly wait. Clearing her throat, she shared, "I finished up work a few minutes ago and am on my way home. It's been a while since we've actually talked. I don't know about you but I'm sick of communicating through emails and texts."

"I hear you." Trixie closed her eyes, thought about the recent missions that had kept her from keeping in better touch with the Sleepyside connection, and felt her cheeks flood with embarrassment.

"So I thought I'd check in with you and see how everything is going." Honey chewed on her bottom lip. Part of her was worried that Trixie would be called away on an assignment and wouldn't be able to come home in time to help with the preparations. Unsure how to bring it up without offending her best friend, she added, "I want to make certain everyone goes perfectly perfect for my wedding."

"Knowing you, it will. There's not a single doubt in my mind." Trixie cradled the cell phone against her ear and reached into her closet. She laid out her running sneakers and then started pawing through her dresser drawers. A pair of mesh shorts, a faded gray T-shirt, a pair of white socks, and a black sports bra landed on her bed. Last, she grabbed her iPod from its spot on a nearby table and placed it on the bed. When she had everything ready for a run along the beach, she sank onto the white cover splashed with overly big pink roses and declared, "It will be perfect, Honey. Neither you, your mother, my mother, or your wedding planner will allow anything less."

"Miss Trask has been a dear, hasn't she?" Honey remarked, giggling. Her former governess who had broken off from the Wheelers a few years ago and had decided to launch her own small but thriving wedding planning business. Both Honey and Di had employed her almost the exact second after they had become engaged, knowing full well that she would see to it that their weddings would be everything that they had ever dreamed about. "I'm so excited, Trixie. I only wish that you were here right now."

"It won't be too long before I'm home," Trixie replied. Standing up, she slipped off her worn blue jeans and stepped into her shorts. Then she sat back on the bed and put on her socks. "I'm set to arrive on Monday. I've got a few things to finish up with a case I've finished. Then you've got me for the rest of the week."

Monday. Her biggest worry abated, Honey leaned back against her seat and smiled. "What have you been working on?" she wondered curiously. She hit the red light in the center of town, the one that seemed to always take an extremely large amount of time before it turned green. Despite the fact that many people had complained about it to the mayor over the years, it had never been fixed. She waited as patiently as she could.

Trixie ran through the items she needed to do before catching her flight early Monday morning. She had to meet with the Chief again, go over her account of the last mission for the third time, and then she had to help decode the disk she had copied from the warehouse's computer. She also hoped to be briefed further on Shane's condition. Other than the fact that he was out of immediate danger, she hadn't heard much. Keeping her fingers crossed, she prayed he would make it through his recovery with flying colors. She swallowed a groan at the thought of another debriefing, hating that she had to through everything again. It was necessary considering the fact that one of their own had turned against them. Chief Ogilvie was insisting on keeping a tighter rein on all of his agents right now. It was imperative that they check in with him. Unfortunately, as intriguing and interesting as her job was, it was absolutely nothing she could share with her best friend. Despising the need to lie, she offered, sidestepping the issue as delicately as she could, "It's a rather complicated case, Honey. I can't go into the specifics with anyone outside of the agency. I'm sorry."

Honey felt a pang of remorse. It was the same patented answer Trixie gave any time one of them questioned her about her job. She never offered them much information. Never. As much as Honey knew that it was her own choice and her own doing, there were still times, like now, when she wished she was her best friend's partner. It seemed that being a detective never truly left one's blood, especially when conversing with her partner. "I know, Trixie," she answered after a long moment. The rude honk of a horn behind her let her know that it was time to get moving. She jerked forward. The cranberry red Lexus shot through the intersection quicker than she had intended. Ignoring the melancholy, she said, knowing that she wouldn't change her decision if she was able to travel back in time anyway, "Well, Trix, we're all looking forward to you coming home again. It's been too long."

It had been. Over three months. There always seemed to be a significant amount of time between her visits home. Luckily, she rarely missed out on a significant family or Bob-White event. It was something she insisted upon and something that Chief Ogilvie allowed, somehow understanding that she would leave the agency if she wasn't allowed to have as much contact as she could with her home life. There had only been one event she hadn't been able to make it home for. Unconsciously, she rubbed her ribcage and the small scar under it. Some things couldn't be prevented. "Did you get the measurements I emailed you?" Trixie questioned, dropping her hand from her ribs.

"Hmm….mmm," Honey answered, twisting a strand of her honey-colored hair around a manicured finger and drove competently through the small town of Sleepyside. "But it doesn't get you off the hook, Trixie Belden. You will still have to stand and be fitted for the last time, just like the rest of us in the wedding party. I have our final fittings planned for Tuesday. That will give the seamstresses enough time to make any alterations and press the dresses before we get to wear them on Saturday."

The joy of being fitted couldn't be rivaled, she thought with a sarcastic snort. It had taken forever to be fitted into her violet bridesmaid's dress for Di's wedding. She wasn't looking forward to a repeat performance. Trixie rolled her eyes and played idly with the hem of her cotton T-shirt. If she ever got married she figured she would let her attendants pick whatever they wanted to wear and to hell with the formal attire, fittings, and stiff hairstyles. "Can't wait," she replied dryly.

"I know. I remember how excited you were last May." Honey chuckled at the memory. Trixie had spent most of the afternoon being fitted with an almost agonized expression on her face that had caused Honey, Di, and the two female Lynch twins to erupt into gales of unsuppressed laughter. Well aware of the fact that standing still for long periods of time wasn't her maid of honor's strong suit, Honey was prepared for a similar reaction. She was looking forward to it. It would help alleviate some of the stress.

She slashed a hand through the air, needing to call a halt to a discussion about the shimmery gold dress she would be donning in nine days. "Enough talk about the dresses, Honey. Let's talk about something more exciting. What are the plans for the week?" She leaned her side against the bed post and smiled, wondering what her friend had planned for them.

"Oh, nothing too bad," Honey hastened to assure her. "I want us to get together as much as we can, though. As the upcoming bride, my wishes do take precedence over any others, don't you know."

Trixie giggled, a low, girlish one, and wrapped her free hand around the white post. "That's the way it should be, Honey. You're calling the shots, just like Di did last May."

"I'm hoping." Honey covered her stomach with a nervous hand. Anytime she really, really, really started to think about the upcoming day and all of the things that could possibly go wrong, her stomach started to get tied up in knots. Keeping busy was the best way for her to stay sane and focused. "You know the roll call, right?"

"No, actually, I don't." She thought back to the invitation that she had recently been able to open and felt a spear of guilt shoot through her. She hadn't been great at keeping in contact with anyone since December. Fighting the urge to grimace, she admitted, "It's been awhile since I've been in contact with everyone. Why don't you fill me in?"

"All right. I will." She came to the stop sign and took the right onto Glen Road. Familiar scenes rolled by, all decked out in the gorgeous beginnings of spring glory. "As the low man on the totem pole at the station, Mart wasn't able to get the entire week off. He has to work on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Day shift, though. We'll have him in the evenings."

"It may be good for my sanity that Mart won't be underfoot the entire week," Trixie replied, straight-faced.

Honey laughed delightedly before continuing on, "Di was a little luckier. She has all but Thursday off next week. The museum is receiving a shipment. She can't miss it. I think it's some kind of Egyptian display or something along those lines." She sighed before admitting, "I'm not certain. For some reason I haven't been paying too close attention when someone is talking about something else besides my wedding."

"I can't imagine why," Trixie shot back, tongue in cheek, earning another round of giggles from her best friend and soon-to-be sister in-law.

"I hear you." Honey shook her shoulder-length hair, her lovely eyes lighting up with amusement at her own expense. "On to the rest of the Bob-Whites…You already know that Brian's residency at the hospital decided our wedding date. April or May were the perfect months for him to take some time off. Most of the doctors like to have their vacation in the summer so the summer was out. I suppose we could have settled for a fall wedding but that was too far away for my taste." When Brian had presented a spring or fall wedding to her, she had jumped on the first choice. Spring had always been one of her favorite seasons. "He has to work tonight, tomorrow and Saturday. He has Sunday off and then has to do three more day shifts, which means Wednesday is his last day at work. After that, he won't have to report back until we return from our honeymoon."

The dreamy quality in Honey's voice was crystal clear. Trixie recognized it despite the fact that there were numerous states between them. "Does it bother you that Brian has to work so much the week before your wedding?" Trixie wondered aloud.

"Oh, no," Honey quickly assured her with another tinkling laugh. "It's probably for the best when I think about it. I'll be hip-deep in wedding preparations that he doesn't care as much about. It'll be better for him to focus on his doctoring…stuff, I guess."

Trixie bit back a chuckle at Honey's less-than-medically-accurate description of Brian's job and internally agreed with her. Brian would rather focus his attention on caring for his patients instead of pouring over the seating plan at the reception or the play list for the band. Staring at the picture of Dan on her dresser, she inquired, "What about Dan? When will he be home?"

"Dan took some vacation time he had coming from the DEA, just like you. He'll be driving in from the city on Saturday to spend the whole week with us." Suddenly the smile slid off her face. Honey hesitated only a moment before she gripped the steering wheel. Hating to do it, she rushed on, knowing that Trixie would cringe when she brought up her adopted brother but needing to tell her when he would come home, "And Jim took the entire week off, too. He's coming home tomorrow night. So, when you come home on Monday, we'll have everyone together again in Sleepyside for the first time since the holidays. And that's when all of the fun stuff starts." Chewing off her lip gloss, she waited for Trixie's reaction.

Her traitorous heart flip-flopped at his name, as it always did in spite of her best intentions not to let it affect her. Not a single word Honey voiced after it sank in. All she heard was _Jim_. She schooled her features, knew that she couldn't be stupid enough to wear her tattered and ragged heart on her sleeve, and did her best to overlook the mention of Honey's brother. She only got away with it because Honey couldn't see her face. "Tell me about the 'fun stuff'," she insisted in an overly bright voice.

"Oh, the usual," Honey answered with a wave of her hand and sighed to herself. She didn't need to see Trixie's face to know that her friend had frozen up, as she always did when Jim was mentioned. Jim and Trixie were proving to be two stubborn, pigheaded people and were driving her, as well as the others, absolutely, positively crazy. They didn't seem to want to mend the breach that existed between them. It had taken a while but she had seen through their masquerade they had started during one of their Bob-White holiday movie nights, as had the rest of their friends. They were almost friendly with each other; almost. She couldn't call it friendly, not with a good conscience. They were both too stilted, too stiff, and too stringent in their attempt to appear friendly and relaxed. Once she had realized what they were doing, her first instinct had been to force the two of them together in hopes of getting them to talk their problems out, with Di as a more than willing accomplice. However, they had met two fierce and unyielding roadblocks in their aborted endeavor. At Brian and Mart's insistence, she and Di were reluctantly talked into giving up their ideas to place peacemaker between the two. Instead, Trixie and Jim had been left to flounder on their own. Flounder, they had. It would be seven years in June, she thought to herself.

"What's the usual?" Trixie didn't need to hear Honey's answer. She already knew. Picnics, parties, sleepovers, horse rides, shopping trips…any or all of them would be more than acceptable. It sounded absolutely wonderful to her and a relief after the stress caused by her last mission. Home was calling out to her so badly. She needed it.

Honey drove past Lynch's Little Country Store. Her eyes scanned the store that didn't even come close to resembling the small one that Mr. Lytell had run for many years along the Glen Road. The title Di's father had given the store didn't fit it anymore. The building had been expanded, as had the parking lot, which always had vehicles parked in it. The store had done so well that Mr. Lynch had set up two more just like it in neighboring towns. "You know us, Trix. We're going to get together as much as we can. It's so rare that all seven of us are home at the same time anymore. There will definitely be meals, maybe even a sleepover if we can manage it, and, of course, lots and lots of wedding stuff. You and Di have the ultra-serious job of making certain that I don't have a nervous breakdown and end up in the insane asylum before I walk down that aisle, all right?"

Trixie's giggle sounded girlish, more like her fourteen-year old self instead of the almost twenty-five that she was. "I promise, Honey," she said. "I can speak for Di, too, since she's my sister-in-law and now a full member of the Belden clan, even if she did have the misfortune to marry the most annoying one of us all." Honey's answering laugh on the other end made her grin impishly. "We'll take care of you, Miss Wheeler, soon to be Mrs. Belden. You have my solemn vow and promise."

"I accept, Miss Belden, and I will most certainly hold you to it." Smiling again, Honey turned up the long, steep driveway that led to the Manor House and pulled her car into its spot. She cut the engine with a flick of her wrist and said regretfully, "I'm home, Trix, and I'm tired. I'm going to head in, eat dinner, and take a long shower, but not necessarily in that order. Take care and have a safe flight home. I'll see you on Monday when you get to Sleepyside. I can't wait, Trix. It's been too long."

Trixie echoed her farewells and hung up the phone. She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, swinging her legs, and picturing the upcoming week in her mind. It promised to be full of fun, laughter, and memorable times. There was only that one small, tiny issue she would have to overcome...Tossing her head back, putting him on the backburner, she pushed herself off the bed with a defiant huff and finished getting ready for a run on the beach. When her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, she clipped her cell phone and her iPod to her shorts. With long strides, she exited through the kitchen door, and, since she had become cautious, locked the French doors behind her. Warming up, she stretched for a few minutes on her patio before following the path that brought her to beach. When she reached the beach, she stood on the sand and took the time to marvel at the waves rolling in and out. Last, she slipped her ear buds in, clicked her favorite playlist and turned up her iPod louder than she should. Another set of last-minute stretches and she was off. With the voice of Marky Mark and his Funky Bunch singing in her ears, she set off at a good clip, her feet slapping rhythmically against the soft sand. It wasn't long before she was lost in motion of the run, where thoughts of defective agents, deadly showdowns, and lost soulmates couldn't touch her anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Three

Mart pulled the dark purple sedan into an open spot in the driveway, noting the other cars already in attendance. A dark red Lexus, belonging to his soon-to-be sister-in-law. An older pick-up truck, one that had driven many, many miles on the highway, as well as on the smaller country roads of Sleepyside. Only his best friend in the entire world could have driven that piece of...junk, Mart thought with an affectionate chuckle. He hadn't seen Dan yet since he'd returned home. Arching an eyebrow, he announced to his wife, in case she hadn't already noticed the truck, "It looks to me like Special Agent Mangan has beaten us."

Di rolled her lovely violet eyes and reminded him with the barest hint of sarcasm to her voice, "He told you when you talked this morning on the phone that he was going to spend the morning helping Mr. Maypenny, the afternoon with Regan, and then he would meet us at the Manor House afterwards for dinner. He was bound to get here first." Since Regan was still happily employed as the Wheelers' groom and had never moved from the apartment above the stables, Dan had literally only been a short walk away from the Manor House. She smothered a laugh at Mart's loud groan.

"You're right, as usual, Diana." He covered her hand with his, gave a squeeze and stared at the last vehicle. A large SUV, dark green in color and practically brand-new, was parked next to the old truck. An employee tag hung from the rearview mirror, telling one and all that the owner had the right to park in the wing of the parking garage reserved especially for W&H, International employees. He didn't need to see the car to know that Jim had returned home. As it always did, Jim's presence back in Sleepyside made him immediately think of his sister. The next week wasn't going to be easy on her, of that he had no doubt. He didn't have to waste any breath questioning her about it when she flew in tomorrow. It was a fact that couldn't be argued with. "Jim's back, too," he said quietly, his earlier good mood fading a little.

"He came home yesterday," Di shared, well aware of where, or, more accurately, towards the person who his thoughts had gone. She gripped his hand tightly before letting go and reached down to pick up her oversized purse from the floor. She sat the trendy bag decorated with colorful swirls in her lap and supplied helpfully, "Honey brought me up-to-date on one of the workaholics in our group when she called to invite us over for the pot-luck dinner this morning. He was supposed to come home on Friday night but ended up staying late at the office to finish up some work. When he didn't get it all finished, he stayed over at his apartment in the city and went back in to the office early Saturday morning. There must have been a lot of loose ends he needed to tie up because he put in another full day's work and then drove home last night," she added with an ironic little grin twisting her lips. There wouldn't have been any loose ends. He had merely been putting off coming home.

Although she didn't share her thoughts, Mart agreed whole-heartedly. "He's become very proficient at using work to keep him occupied," Mart mumbled under his breath as he cut off the engine. All of the Bob-Whites had noticed the change in Jim, almost from the second he had switched his majors his senior year at NYU. Studying, while something he had always taken seriously, had become of paramount importance to the redhead. Once he had achieved the necessary grades and been accepted into Harvard Law, his studying habits had only intensified to the point where his friends rarely heard from him. Since Jim graduated from law school a few years ago, he had substituted the need to study, which had become obsolete, with something else: his job. With a work ethic that had surpassed everyone's expectations, he had thrown himself into his career as a corporate lawyer for his father's business and had more than excelled at it. Mart didn't need to have a degree in psychology to know that Jim was using work as an excuse to not think about Trixie. And his sister was just as bad, maybe even worse. She was constantly working on some kind of an assignment she couldn't tell any of them about for that damn private agency out in San Diego. Frowning at the sheer magnitude of their stupidity and stubbornness, it made him want to bang their heads together to try and knock some sense into the two of them.

"Hmm. I do wonder why Jim would want to spend an entire Saturday at the office," Di murmured quietly with an arched look. She tapped a finger against her chin, gave a shake of her head that sent her long, black hair cascading around her face in a gentle curtain before settling back into its neat waves, and posed the rhetorical question, "Could it be because a certain curly-haired blonde is set to return to Sleepyside tomorrow as well?"

"Could be." The strain that existed between Jim and Trixie was hidden behind perfect manners, monotone voices, and polite conversation. The two froze up the second they came into contact with each other and didn't thaw out until the other was out of the way. At least they had twenty-four hours before Trixie returned home to prepare themselves. Looking forward to seeing his sister but not looking forward to the uncomfortable aura that hung around the two, he clicked his seatbelt and opened the car door. Adeptly changing the subject, wanting to lighten the mood, he shared, "I don't see Brian's car but he probably walked up from the Farm."

Di opened the back door and reached into the backseat where their contribution to the dinner resided. "Knowing Brian the way that I know Brian, he's already here. One, because he wouldn't want to disappoint his lovely fiancée who invited us over for this impromptu dinner. And two, because, well, because he would want to spend time with Honey, even if the rest of us are honing in on the action."

Mart tossed a lazy grin over the hood of the car and loped over to assist her. "Allow me, Diana. I'll carry the food," he offered with a flourish and took the brown paper bag from her. "Let's go. This week is going to be a busy one." He put a hand at the small of her back and guided her. Together, they walked along the path. Many signs of spring sprouted all around them. Freshly planted yellow, purple and white pansies decorated their way to the front porch of the Manor House. Daffodils burst through the ground, standing proud in all their white and yellow glory. The grass was in the process of turning a bright, healthy shade of green while fresh leaves opened up to the sun from the trees overhead.

She nodded in agreement, a serene smile on her face, as they left the stone path behind and made it to the wide steps. "Tell me about it. I can barely remember the week before our wedding, Mart. And I mean, barely. It went by way too quickly. All I can remember are the dreams. Some of them were pretty terrifying." Pitching her voice low, calling on her training in the drama classes she had taken in high school and in college, she shared, "I can remember dreaming about trying one my wedding dress. In one dream, it was way too big. In another one, it was way too small. I also had a dream where my dress never arrived and I didn't have one to wear at all! I also had a horrible nightmare the night before our wedding. Promise you won't laugh, right?" She lifted her head expectantly and waited for his answer, all the while knowing he wouldn't be able to uphold it.

Enchanted by the violet eyes peeping up at him, Mart held up one hand in the famous salute all Boy Scouts employed while he crossed fingers on his other hand, hidden behind his back. "I promise," he vowed, already certain he was going to break it the second she finished talking.

"Well, in this dream, the band we had hired for the reception canceled out on us at the last minute. We couldn't get anyone to take over. No deejays, no bands, nothing." Pausing for effect, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his promise, she added, her voice gaining strength and finding it hard to keep the humor off her face, "We ended up having the marching band from the high school play for our reception."

The image of their song being played by the Sleepyside's Junior-Senior High School's band startled a choked chortle out of him that he couldn't quite stifle. _The Way You Look Tonight, _while a fabulous song, didn't seem appropriate set to band music, even in his imagination. In deference to his wife, he didn't say anything else although his lips twitched with wayward amusement. "Um, I see," he remarked stupidly, trying bravely to reign in the need to chuckle, and then gave up.

Her laughter mixed with his. She tucked her hand through his elbow and tugged him forward, up the steps with pots of brightly colorful flowers winking back at them. "Don't worry, Mart," she hastened to assure him. "I can laugh about it now. I couldn't the morning of our wedding, though. Thank goodness none of those nightmares came true. I still have a hard time listening to any marching band. I remember I had to turn off the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade this past year. It brought back too many memories."

Shifting the brown paper bag filled with a different assortment of hot wings to his side, he followed his wife. Their steps matched perfectly. "We didn't have any problems at our wedding, Di," he reminded her with a crooked grin. "It went by very smoothly."

She paused before she could ring the door bell. Meeting the warm blue gaze with a tender one of her own, she whispered softly, "No, you're right. There weren't any problems. At least, nothing that seems all that big now. Who really cared if my sisters forgot to bring the bags of birdseed we spent an entire afternoon to decorate to toss at us after the wedding? Honestly, I didn't." Too enamored with the romance of the day, she hadn't even realized the oversight until the morning after the wedding. By then, it hadn't mattered. She was Mart's wife. That was all that was important.

He hadn't known that the traditional ending of the wedding ceremony had been forgotten, not until Di had pointed it out to him during their honeymoon. He had been too starry-eyed and residing on cloud nine, finding it hard to believe that the lovely Diana Lynch had not only agreed to marry him but had followed through on it. There were still times when he had to pinch himself and wonder how he had gotten so lucky. Giving in to the urge to kiss, he leaned down and gently took her lips with his. He deepened it into something more at the precise moment the door opened to reveal a smiling, relaxed, and then quite shocked and embarrassed, Honey Wheeler.

"Oh, my!" Honey squeaked out, not expecting to see the two lip-locked on her welcome mat. Her hazel eyes slid off to the side while her face turned a becoming pink. She cursed Dan for telling her that he had seen them drive up and wished she had waited for one of them to ring the doorbell before greeting them at the door.

Feeling more like teenagers instead of the married couple that they were, they sprang apart immediately."Sorry," Di mumbled out, snuggling into the comforting arm her husband draped around her shoulders, and a sheepish look on her face. Both Bob-White couples had been interrupted through the years during an embrace here or there. It never became easier or less embarrassing, even with a wedding band on her finger. "We…ah, well, umm…yeah, we just got here," she finished, somewhat lamely, and ignored the bright red flags of embarrassment painting her cheeks.

Always needing her near, Mart pulled her closer. Choosing to overlook the fact that Honey had witnessed a private moment, wanting to put both women at ease, he asked the first thing that sprang to his mind, "So, I see that we practically have a full house tonight. I saw your brother's new, sleek and ultra-reliable vehicle parked out there. Leave it to him to pick an SUV that passed all safety tests with flying colors. It outshines Dan's preferred choice of transportation. If you ask me, that truck is a relic that should have been scrapped years ago or sent to a transportation museum where they appreciate dinosaurs of such an old-fashioned design."

"Hey, watch what you're saying, Belden! I resent that!" Dan called out from the hallway. He sauntered towards the group, an open can of soda in his hands and a slight grin dancing across his face, and his dark eyes zeroed in on his best friend. "My truck may be old but it's not a relic. It's got character. I'll have you know it could take any of the newer cars being made any day of the week."

"I don't know about that," Mart shot back with a chuckle meant to irritate. "I'd say the only place your poor excuse for a truck could be taken is to the junkyard. Really, Dan," he tsked, shaking his head solemnly while little flashes of light danced with delight in his blue eyes. "It's a shame to have a DEA agent driving such a worthless piece of…"

Di jabbed him in the stomach, causing him to let out a strong whoosh instead of the unflattering word he was planning on using. "Really, Mart," she tossed his own words back at him, giving him the look that only a long-suffering wife could give an infuriating husband. "Leave Dan alone. I think that's enough."

Dan rocked back on his heels, pleased that he hadn't had to defend the honor of his truck any longer, and felt a grin split his handsome face. Di had successfully put Mart back in his place without having him lift a finger to help her. He shared a humorous glance with Honey and then declared, not wanting to gloat too much, "You two are the last to arrive. I vote we get this party started and start eating."

Mart's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, eliciting a few more chuckles. Rubbing it, he followed Honey into the house and closed the door behind them. "Everyone's here, then?"

Honey nodded happily. She waved her left hand in the air. A stream of late afternoon sunlight caught the diamond on her hand, shot rainbows through the large princess-cut gem. Nothing adorned or encircled it; only the platinum of the ring. The simplicity of the design made it all the more beautiful and precious. "Brian walked up from Crabapple Farm a few hours ago. He was visiting your parents. He's waiting for us in the dining room. Jim's still upstairs, getting ready. He took Jupiter out for a long ride this afternoon and came back a while ago. I imagine he's finishing up with his shower and should be down here shortly."

"Do you think he'd mind if we started eating without him?" Mart wondered aloud. Lunch seemed to have happened a long time ago. He remembered the spaghetti and meatballs with a fond sigh.

"Mart," Di chided him gently. "We'll be waiting for Jim." She smiled at the agonized expression on Mart's face and followed the others to the dining room. Mart shot ahead and set the paper bag on the table. He studied the other offerings with a look of longing. Knowing he couldn't partake in them yet, he began taking out the containers of mild, hot, and honey barbecue chicken wings his wife had supplied with a great deal of reverence. He placed them carefully on the table next to a covered bowl filled with fried chicken as if they were a priceless work of art. Finished, he stepped back, put his hands on his hips, and admired his handiwork. The rest of the room grinned behind his back at his antics.

Glad that almost everyone was in residence, Brian took his spot next to Honey, capturing her hand with one of his, and allowed himself an introspective moment. A week from today they would be celebrating their first twenty-four hours of wedded bliss. He couldn't believe that the past years had been leading up to their wedding. It was going to be perfectly perfect, exactly as Honey wished it to be. He couldn't wait for it to happen. "Hey, guys. Glad you could come," he greeted them cheerfully.

"It was a great idea to have a dinner together tonight," Di answered enthusiastically, aiming a smile at Honey. She walked over to the side table and picked through the various choices. She skipped the different sodas, the lemonade, and iced tea options before settling on a bottle of water as her beverage.

"It's Sunday," Mart announced to the room at large, beginning to tick off the remaining days on his fingers, vaguely recalling how the last week before his wedding had caused his stomach to tie up into knots where he almost had trouble eating. Studying his eldest brother, he had more than a feeling that Brian would be experiencing the nerves very shortly. "You and Honey have six days before your wedding. I can tell you from experience that this is going to be one of your last stress-free nights. Each day is only going to get progressively worse before Saturday rolls around and then the real stress starts."

Honey paled slightly at Mart's statements. She moved closer to Brian, felt his arm at her waist, and found a solid comfort in it. Already a bundle of nerves, she forced a tiny laugh through her suddenly anxious lips and turned wide eyes on Di, begging for assistance and all without speaking a single, solitary word.

Di jabbed her husband in the stomach with a sharp elbow, causing him to grunt. "Don't mind him," she mumbled, frowning at Mart and rushing over to offer Honey a warm, supportive hug. "I'd like to make an excuse for his poor choice in conversational topics but I can't, not in good conscience. I'd only be lying to you if I did." She sighed deeply and then sailed on, "Mainly I can't do it because he is right, the idiot. It will get tougher, Honey, but it will be worth it, I promise you that."

Honey blew out a long breath. The nerves seemed to be coming closer to the surface with each passing second and she still had nearly an entire week to go. "That's about what I suspected," she admitted lowly after a moment. She couldn't wait for the wedding but she wasn't looking forward to the upcoming week and all of the little items that needed to be finished. It promised to be a flurry of activity, as well as one constant tension headache after another. If she had to listen to her mother rearrange the seating chart one more time, she thought she was going to explode.

Dan caught Brian's narrowed gaze. Deciding it would be better to interrupt before the eldest Belden decided to knock the other one down a peg or two, most likely verbally, for putting the deer-in-a-headlights look on his fiancée, Dan deftly steered the conversation into another direction, "We're almost all back in Sleepyside. When is our California connection arriving home? I haven't heard from her in a while."

Brian lost his look of retribution immediately and smiled. He was looking forward to seeing his sister again. Communicating via email and text messages weren't his preferred methods. With her schedule and his, as well as the different time zones, they didn't get to actually talk too much. "She called me yesterday afternoon after I sent her a text. We were only able to talk for a few minutes, though. I was lucky enough to catch her in-between meetings. She told me that she should be here tomorrow evening if all goes well and she doesn't have any complications with her travel plans. The weather promises to be good so, unless there is a sudden onslaught of fog or a freak snowstorm somewhere between California and JFK, I think we'll be seeing her tomorrow."

Di clasped her hands together, excited at the news. "That's wonderful, Brian! Did Trixie give you her arrival time? Is someone meeting her at the airport?"

Brian shook his head. "No, she only said she'd be home by the evening. I asked her if she needed someone to pick her up but she declined. A rental is going to be ready for her so she'll be driving home herself. I think she wanted to have the freedom of having her own car to drive around and not to have to bother anyone for rides or borrow someone else's car." Her independent streak hadn't diminished; in fact, it had only widened since she had struck out on her own.

"Di and I were talking a little about her…and Jim before we came in," Mart put in. He didn't need to elaborate any further. The four people staring back at him went still. Addressing Honey, he inquired, "Are you getting any odd vibes off of him yet?"

"No, not yet." Honey sighed a little. It was frustrating to watch the two of them, either separately or together, and to realize that neither of them had made any progress towards any type of reconciliation or resolution to their issues, whatever they may be. Both had been annoyingly tightlipped about it, too, which, she was the first to admit, rankled just as much. "I brought her name up before he went out for his ride just to see what he would do. He didn't do much of anything," she said, lifting her shoulders in resignation. "Of course, he was gone much longer than he was supposed to."

"We don't have to worry about what they will do when they see each other for the first time. We can pretty much predict what's going to happen by now," Dan put in, amused and disgruntled at the same time. Their behavior patterns never changed, much to the chagrin of their friends. Progress would be a good thing. It sucked that they were perpetually stuck in neutral and spinning their wheels.

"Dan's right. It's been the same thing for far too long time." Di fluffed her hair as if she was preparing to go on the stage. Then, in a voice much deeper than her usual one, she uttered, pretending to be Jim, "Hi, Trixie. Good to see you again. Is your job keeping you busy?" She nudged Dan with her elbow, prompting him to pick up the next part.

Getting into the spirit, uncaring that he was taking on the role of a different gender, Dan cleared his throat before saying in a high falsetto voice that had the others gawking at him in varying shades of shock, awe, and amusement, "Yes, I am awfully busy, Jim. It's good to see you, too. How's your work going?"

"Fine, just fine," Di continued in her deep voice while the others watched the two of them with decidedly odd looks on their fascinated faces, uncertain how they should react to the pre-dinner show, and unable to tear their eyes off of them.

"I'm glad to hear it," Dan continued in that same high-pitched voice, doing his best to sound like a female. Recalling the many conversations the two had shared over the years, he let a short pause go before bringing up a question Trixie usually asked Jim, "Do you like living in New York City?"

"Of course." Di cleared her throat, intentionally utilized the long pause herself, and then wondered aloud, "How is California treating you?"

"Good," he answered, without elaborating. Realizing they may have given the two the longest conversation they had carried in almost seven years, he decided to call an end to it and pointed towards Honey . "Oh, look. There's Honey. I'm going to go talk to her. See you later, Jim." Then he headed over towards her, using a ploy that Trixie often employed to bring an end to a conversation with Jim.

Stunned silence reigned supreme for a full minute while the others digested the performance. Honey tapped her ears to discover if she had actually heard correctly. Brian simply looked stunned. Mart stood perfectly still until a big boom of laughter finally broke out, filling the room until the others joined in with him. "Good God, Dan," he finally managed to say while tears of misplaced merriment filled his eyes. He glanced down at the cell phone clipped to his belt. If only he had thought to catch the moment on tape with the modern marvel. He imagined the other agents at his field division would have found Special Agent Daniel Mangan's performance extremely noteworthy. "Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?"

"Hidden talent, Belden. It's a hidden talent," Dan declared good-naturedly, refusing to be embarrassed for his display or the fact that he had been given the female lead in the impromptu enactment.

"It should have stayed hidden," Brian stated swiftly, straight-faced, while his dark eyes shone brightly with unconcealed humor.

Honey couldn't swallow back another chortle of glee. Once released, it came out in great big gulps until tears streamed down her face. Swiping away at them uselessly, she eventually found her voice. "Well, I must say that was one of the most enjoyable skits I've seen in a long time. Emmy-worthy if you decided to put it on television. Oscar-worthy, for sure, if you wanted to go on the big screen. If you set it to music, I'm certain it could win a Tony." She applauded the two, with Brian and Mart joining in after Dan and Di took their well-earned bows. "You really nailed Jim, Di. And Dan…" She turned to face him, ready to offer him his accolades, only to be interrupted by Mart.

"Honey!" Mart exclaimed forcefully, waving his hands in front of his face, stopping her next flow of words. Torn between humor and horror, he suggested, "You might want to reconsider your choice of words there. It's innocent enough, I know, but…"

"Oh, I was merely going to say that Di nailed Jim and that Dan nailed…" And then Honey stopped, her face flushing the brightest red that it had ever flushed while the rest of the group, her fiancé included, burst into another round of uncontrollable laughter; this time at the expense of the future bride. "Well, fine, then," she huffed out a bit indignantly, waiting impatiently for them to stop. Arms crossed over her chest, she started tapping an annoyed foot until the laughter ceased.

"Sorry, Honey," Brian mumbled first, working hard to control his own laughter. He slid an arm over her shoulders and laid his head on top of her head, hoping to soothe her, and ruined his efforts by saying, "We couldn't help it. It was very amusing."

"But not as funny as Special Agent Mangan here sounding like a woman," Mart jumped in immediately, glad to have someone else to poke fun at. "And I do agree with Miss Wheeler's sentiments, even if her choice of words weren't the best. As our resident expert on vocabulary…"

"Excuse me?" Dan interrupted, lifting his eyebrows.

"I only mean that I am the one within our group who possesses the largest and most interesting vocabulary." Mart ignored the groans and pressed on quickly before anyone in the room could protest, "As such, I'll be glad to restate your words for you, Honey, and in such a way that they cannot be misconstrued, misunderstood or misinterpreted. Both my wife and my good friend here did an excellent job of portraying our co-presidents. It was true to form and spot-on perfect. The only suggestion I would make is to have Mangan here wear a wig next time. Blonde curls ought to suit him wonderfully," he quipped.

Brian's amusement dried up. It wasn't as funny when Mart put it that way. Even the loud snort of refusal from Dan couldn't bring the humor back. "Yeah. You really did," he remarked solemnly. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khakis and swallowed a sigh. "Unfortunately, they will probably have that exact conversation, or one very similar to it, when they see each other for the first time this week."

"Then they will spend the rest of the week doing their best to stay out of each other's way," Di added, not finding the conversation as amusing or as humorous as she had a few minutes earlier. Her shoulders slumped while her nose crinkled. It was beyond frustrating. "We'll be lucky if they say more than five words to each other after their initial greeting."

Honey contemplated the ceiling. She idly counted the crystals on the attractive chandelier that stood directly above the middle of the long table before bravely bringing up her solution to the problem, even though she knew that she was going to be shot down in a blaze of glory by the majority of the people in the room, "I still think that…"

"Don't say it, Honey," Mart interrupted her swiftly, shaking a finger at her. "Don't even think it. We can't intervene in their relationship or lack thereof. If we did, both Trixie and Jim would get angry. Instead of dealing with their frustrations or whatever the hell you want to call the feelings existing between them…"

"Resident expert of vocabulary, indeed. Seems to me if your brother really was truly that, then he would be able to come up with a string of long and impressive-sounding words that he probably wouldn't be able to spell," Dan muttered to Brian, earning a well-timed kick to the shin from Mart. "Hey!" Dan grouched, scowling at his friend, and rubbing his shin for good measure.

With eyebrows snapping together in annoyance, Mart stared him down before continuing, "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, forcing Trixie and Jim together wouldn't work. They wouldn't be tempted to try to settle whatever it is they have between them. Instead, they would turn their combined anger on us." The thought made him, and a few others, shiver. "It wouldn't be pleasant. All of you know that's what would happen. It would be the worst possible scenario to happen before your wedding, Honey. I hate to say it but they are going to have to continue to muddle through the mess they created on their own."

Honey opened her mouth, closed it, opened it one more time, and then released a low, annoyed sigh. The need to argue with Mart was there but she couldn't. His prediction was too accurate. She also didn't want to have any unpleasant altercations before her wedding, especially between the maid of honor and the best man. "You're right, Mart," she answered instead, her lips curling down at the end. "I only wish we could do something for the two of them. I mean, come on, it's been nearly seven years since they had their big fight. You'd think they would have been able to put it behind them by now and move on."

"It's not going to happen," Brian inserted astutely into the prolonged silence while the others digested Honey's words. Gesturing with his soda can, he added, "They meant too much to each other, and still mean too much to each other, even though neither one wants to admit it."

"At least we've never had to deal with either one of them bringing home a significant other," Di mumbled under her breath, grimacing at the unpleasant scene that brought to mind. Both had dated a few people here and there but never anyone serious and never anyone for an extended period of time. It was another thing besides an extremely strong work ethic that they had in common; light, casual relationships, without a chance to develop into anything more lasting or permanent. Jim had always used the excuse of schooling, and then work, for his reason for not seriously dating. Trixie had also hidden behind the work reason when she was questioned about it. Both excuses rang extremely false.

Mart gave an exaggerated shudder at the possibility brought on by his wife's words. "Could you imagine? Oh, the horror," he replied dramatically, hoping to bring a little levity into the conversation and steer them away from their present course.

His wife reached over and gave him a playful slap on his arm. "Mart!" she admonished, doing her best not to giggle and failing miserably when he waggled his eyebrows at her innocently. Giving up, a delighted one trilled out past her smiling lips.

"We only want them to be happy," Honey chimed in, utilizing her dual role as sister and best friend for the estranged duo. "It's obvious to all that they are not completely happy. They've both thrown themselves into their work to counteract it but their jobs are not enough. They need more." What they needed was each other but they were too stubborn to admit it, she thought quietly.

"We can't argue with you, Honey. You're one hundred percent right. But…" His voice trailed off. Hearing a noise from the hallway, Brian held up a hand, bringing a sudden halt to their conversation. They immediately stopped talking and turned to face the open doorway with differing shades of guilt splattered across their faces. Only Dan played it casual. Leaning up against the wall, he crossed his ankles, finished off his soda and focused his dark eyes on the figure who entered the room.

The uneasy silence hit him the second he stepped into the dining room. Jim paused, barely resisting the need to sigh or to pick something up and throw it. His friends were horrible at disguising the fact that they had been discussing one of their favorite subjects: him, Trixie and their failed romance. He should have been used to it by now. It happened all the time. He couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had walked in on the exact same conversation the group had been having. There had even been a few times where he had been lucky enough to catch smidgeons of the conversation. That was always a treat. He imagined the same thing happened frequently to Trixie, too, but they didn't stay in the same spot together long enough to compare notes. He doubted if she would bring it up to him. He knew he didn't want to discuss it with her.

"Hi," he greeted them simply, finding an odd strand of amusement shoot through him as the two women fluttered their hands nervously and the Belden men stuffed their hands into their pockets before shuffling their feet. It was pitiful, really. They couldn't have been more obvious. Because he didn't want to let them off the hook, he questioned leadingly, curious about their answer, "It's very quiet in here. What's going on? Have I missed out anything?"

Silence stretched on for about ten seconds before Honey jumped in. She lifted up a container of hot wings and announced, a trifle too cheerfully, while the majority of the others continued to look guilty and Dan began snickering into his hand, "Dinner! We've been waiting for you to come down so we could start dinner, Jim. Are you hungry?" Her smile was overly bright, her words were too loud, and her eyes wouldn't meet his directly. She hated it when guilt was a companion of hers.

His sister was a horrendous liar. Always had been, always would be. He had to give her props for the effort, though. Because he loved all of them and appreciated the fact that they had his best interests at heart, even though he would have liked them to respect his privacy and his choices a little more, he responded warmly, "Sounds good, Honey." Jim's green gaze swept over the assembled group, meeting each and every face. Mart and Brian immediately dropped his eyes, a sure sign of their guilt, while Di blushed a beautiful rose and Honey refused to look back at him. Only Dan met and held his eyes. For that alone, Jim conjured up an honest smile for him and then announced, setting the rest of them at ease, "Let's eat, guys. I heard that Cook left some of her famous fried chicken for us." He nodded towards Mart and chuckled. "And I think I heard a stomach rumbling when I entered the room."

"Hey! I'm a growing boy," Mart defended himself, patting said stomach as it released a low growl as if on cue, causing the rest of the room to burst into laughter. The rest of the remaining tension ebbed out of the room.

"You've been a growing boy since you were three," Brian pointed out humorously, glad to have something neutral to bring up. "Believe me, everyone, I remember it well. It was during his third birthday when Mart developed that famous hollow leg of his. He inhaled the first piece of birthday cake and then promptly sank his hands and his face into the rest of it. Before Moms could stop him, he had eaten half of it. None of the other guests wanted to eat it after he had gotten ahold of it. We've got the pictures to prove it, too."

Mart bristled, annoyed at his eldest brother's teasing, no matter how good-natured it was. About to snap back a retort, he stopped when he felt Di's gentle pressure on his arm. "Hey, it was chocolate cake," he remarked dryly instead, earning a quick kiss of praise from his wife on the side of his cheek.

Dan gave an exaggerated shudder at the intimate display between the happily married couple and declared, "I stopped in at Mr. Lynch's store on the way over and picked up a few pounds of potato salad. I dropped a carton off with Uncle Bill and brought the rest over here. Let me tell you, Di. I haven't found a deli in the city yet who can make potato salad as good as the kind that comes out of your father's store. It's amazing."

From her position at Mart's side, Di beamed at his praise. "Thanks, Dan. Daddy's very proud of his stores and how well they're doing. I'll be sure to tell him."

Listening to the conversation flowing around him, Jim took his spot at the table and fell into his usual role as observer. He watched as the others scrambled for their seats. A light grin tugged at his lips when Dan and Mart reached for the same chair at the same time. They tugged in jest at it, playing a boisterous game of tug o' war, until Mart eventually gave up. He let go of the chair right when Dan made a forceful attempt to reclaim it. He got the chair but also ended up on his bottom on the floor, much to his chagrin and the enjoyment of everyone else. The group settled down after Dan good-naturedly dusted off his jeans and took his seat, to do one of the things they enjoyed doing best: conversing with each other while sharing a delicious meal.

With more than a little envy, Jim noticed how Di and Mart sat close together, knees touching under the table, and carried on little, private, whispered conversations that the others seemed oblivious to. On the other side of the table, Brian couldn't keep his hands off of Honey and spent more time touching her arm, hand or waist than he did eating. It was sweet but a bit sickening at the same time. Catching the other lone wolf's eye in the room, they grimaced and nodded in perfect accord.

When he stared at one of the empty spots at the table, his smile slid off his face. The image of the woman who would be filling it within the next twenty-four hours rose up, unbidden, in his mind. Blonde curls he hadn't been able to curb the desire touch. He found it hard to believe that she had let her hair grow long. The length only made him want to touch the silky curls even more. Then there were her bright blue eyes that had to put the California sky to shame. He wouldn't know since he had never been out West. And her rich, unpainted lips that he couldn't forgot the taste of, no matter how hard he tried. Or her trim body and what it had felt like under his fingers. He could go on and on with his forbidden list of Trixie's attributes that beckoned to him in spite of his iron resolve not to let them. How he was going to make it through the upcoming week without being branded certifiably insane was beyond him. An entire week in Trixie's company…not just a visit here or there but most likely constant company, since she would be assisting Honey with the many last, little details before the wedding commenced on Saturday. His sister had helpfully supplied him with her tentative itinerary for the week, letting him know ahead of time that Trixie would be spending a lot of time at their house. He couldn't help but be grateful, almost pathetically so, that he had brought work with him to help keep himself busy and hopefully out of the path of the blonde who could still take his breath away. Work promised to be his salvation…maybe. He could always hope.


	4. Chapter 4

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Four

Trixie flipped the visor down, blocking out the blinding glare of the golden sun, and turned down the radio that had been blasting away classics from her favorite radio station of her teenage years. She appreciated the sleek feel of the dark gray Mustang, as well as the way it had eaten up the interstate at as high a rate of speed as the State of New York allowed her to go…for the most part. With a small appreciative chuckle, she wasn't going to admit to testing the car more than was politically correct. Weary after a full day of traveling, she had almost jumped for joy when she had seen the car that the rental agency had available for her. She only wished that it had a stick instead of the standard automatic issue.

Her thumbs drummed along the steering wheel. It had been a whirlwind of a day, from the crack of dawn flight to the ending at a crowded JFK. It had been full of racing to the correct gate, connecting flights, and holding her breath that the weather would hold and all would go smoothly. The fates, for once, had smiled down on her. She couldn't have asked for a better day to travel. It had been as dependable as the cogs within a clock. She almost found it hard to believe that she was leaving the interstate behind her and was traveling along the connection that would take her to the crossroads for Glen Road, and then, only a hop, skip and a jump away from home. Even better, she was home a full day early. The gleam in her eye deepened. It didn't get any better than that.

Pleased with her decision to surprise her family and the Bob-Whites, hardly daring to believe that she was actually on her home turf, the past few days flew by in her mind. She had suffered through yet another debriefing, had given her account of the events from her last mission until she thought she could recite it in her sleep. They had been interrupted with news of Shane's condition at last, much to the combined relief of all. He was going to be fine. Out of commission for an extended period, certainly more than a little disillusioned for having a trusted friend shoot him in the back, but alive, well and most certainly breathing. The potential for what could have happened momentarily dimmed her buoyant mood. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel for a moment. It was more than a possibility, anytime the starting gun went off and an assignment began, for any of them. A hazard of the job, one she had been lucky enough to avoid, for the most part. Thrusting aside the thoughts of what could happen as she had been trained to do, she focused on the now and the reason why she was home. Her help hadn't been needed on decoding the disk. It had been protected too well for her limited capabilities. Instead, it had found its way to their topnotch technological experts, who began working on it the second they had received it. Toying with the edge of her sunglasses, she pondered about its contents. It must contain some extremely pertinent information…but she didn't have to worry about it. At least, not yet. As challenging and fulfilling as she found her job to be, it was going to be nice to have a break, a long one, and to spend time with the people she loved and cared about the most in the entire world. She was going to enjoy spending the next two weeks simply being Trixie Belden of Glen Road, with no thoughts at all to her job or her other responsibilities.

And there it was. The road sign made her heart sigh with a wistful longing. It had to be one of the finest sights she had ever seen. She blinked twice to make certain it wasn't a figment of her imagination. When it stayed before her eyes and didn't disappear, she fully believed that she was here. Edging forward in her seat, she turned onto the road, her eyes glinting with an eagerness to be home. It was exactly as she remembered it to be in the early spring…and it had been a long time since she had been set foot in Sleepyside during the month of April. She rolled down her window. The air was alive with the smell of the first fresh-cut grass of the season. Lilacs and forsythia showed off their bright, vibrant colors, dancing beautifully with a fresh spring breeze. Fresh, new and vibrantly green leaves casted long, shadowy fingers across the road.

She drove past a new mailbox with the name Belden painted with purple letters across it. A pot of jaunty pansies, purple and white, encircled the post. Grinning to herself, she thought that Di was a much better gardener than she was. The driveway would take her to the lovely house that her brother and Mart bought last summer. A two-story renovated farmhouse, cheerful yellow with white trim, and a full wrap-around porch that Di had fallen in love with the second she had seen the house. The charm hadn't been lost on Trixie, the first time she had seen it, last December amidst a backdrop of white, glistening snow. As newlyweds, her brother and Di were very happily married. It was going to be wonderful to see them again. She absently brushed against the brim of her hat. Her almost-twin was going to be happy to get his hat back. But their house wasn't her destination right now. The mailbox faded into the background. She wanted home.

She didn't pass another car on the quiet country road which wasn't unusual. A cursory grin touched her lips at the sight of the new country store but she cut off the unpleasant memories that wanted to swarm, both for the events that had happened there and for the previous owner who she had never had the pleasure of seeing again. Rumor had it that he had packed up and moved to parts unknown. Done and in the past, she ordered herself fiercely, and very nearly believed it. If her heart sped up a little when she drove past the driveway to the Manor House, she wouldn't own up to it.

"The past," she muttered, a small bit of her joy winking out before she resolutely ignored it. "It's in the past where it's been for the past seven years." Almost seven years, her mind mockingly corrected her before she frowned. Satisfied that thoughts of Jim wouldn't ruin her home-coming, she drove the few remaining yards before her driveway came into view and focused on the simple happiness of being home. Crabapple Farm was home to her, more than her house in California could ever be. Nothing could touch it, as far as she was concerned.

With a widening smile, she flicked on her blinker and made the familiar turn. It became bigger and brighter when the white house came into view. As usual, nothing had changed. Neat and tidy, with the white picket fence that only added even more charm to it. The orchard was in full bloom, with beautiful blossoms peppering the trees and floating gently down when the wind blew by. Trixie pulled the car under the shade of a large oak tree that had to be nearly as old as the dwelling itself. She could remember climbing it as a child; first, because her older brothers could do it, and do it very well, and then because she wanted to prove to them that she could do everything that they could, even if she had the unfortunate misfortune to be born after them. Lost in the memory, almost seeing the ghosts of a younger Mart taunting a preschool Trixie after her most recent attempt had ended in a painful fall, Trixie allowed herself to wallow in the sentimentality of the moment. It was too sweet to resist.

Having enough with the trip down memory lane, knowing that the present promised to be even better than the past, Trixie threw open the car door. It slammed shut behind her with a satisfying bang. The suitcases sat in the backseat, forgotten. They could wait. She wasn't in a hurry to take them inside. With the key dangling from her hand, she bounded across the lawn, heading towards the back door and the kitchen, where she suspected her mother would be at this time of the early evening, most likely putting away the freshly scrubbed dinner dishes, and hoped that she could catch her by surprise.

Her timing couldn't have been more perfect. Helen heard the back door open but didn't lift her head from her spot at the counter. Humming lightly, she continued drying the dishes. The remaining sunlight shimmered off the clear plastic salad bowl. With her brood of rambunctious children, she had learned to trade in the fragile for the durable. "You're back early, Brian." Standing on her tiptoes, she carefully put away the bowl and reached down for the next item to dry; calm, collected and serene, and completely unaware of the identity of her child framed within the doorway.

Trixie's eyes lit up with unconcealed merriment but she didn't answer, having no desire to interrupt her mother at work. She certainly didn't want to make her mother drop the silverware. After the last remaining items had been replaced, lovingly and carefully into the silverware drawer, she declared, her voice ringing out as clear as a bell and making her mother's head snap back, "You're half-right there, Moms. I am a day early but I'm not Brian."

Helen fumbled the dish towel. It fell to the floor. Pivoting around, she looked through wide, disbelieving eyes. It only took a minute for it to register that her daughter was standing on her threshold, with the setting sun at her back. Tears pricked briefly, as they always did when she returned home, while her breath lodged painfully in her throat. "Trixie," Helen breathed, finally finding the strength to talk. Wasting no more time, she hurried across the expanse of the kitchen with an exuberance that Trixie had unknowingly inherited from her. Throwing welcoming arms around Trixie, she hugged her tightly and felt a small tear work its way down her cheek. It was such a treat to have her home. "Oh, you're home. You're really home!" she crooned out happily, hardly daring to comprehend that her baby girl was standing in her kitchen and back in her arms. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

Coming home had to be the best feeling in the entire world. Trixie embraced her mother and swallowed back a few of her own tears. "I know, I know. I couldn't wait, Moms. I simply couldn't. I exchanged my tickets and took an earlier flight instead," she said, fighting the conflicting urge to laugh and cry at the same time.

"I'm delighted that you did. Absolutely delighted. You can't know how much." Fighting for control herself, Helen took a deep steadying breath and stepped back, not wanting to turn into a sniveling wreck in front of Trixie. Peter was the only audience she ever allowed to witness any overly emotional reactions. Never her children. When the breathing calmed her, she framed Trixie's face and studied it closely for an inordinate amount of time. Her daughter looked the same; happy, healthy, and energetic. However, there was that odd shadow to her eyes that Helen had seen before. Understanding that it had to be caused by the presence of a certain near-by neighbor, she nodded her head solemnly and dropped her hands. "You look wonderful," she declared truthfully.

"Thanks, Moms." Trixie stared around the empty room, finding it odd that the kitchen wasn't overflowing with Beldens or assorted others. Frowning, she wondered aloud, "Is anyone else home?"

Helen understood the frown well. It often snuck up on her when she least expected it, the quiet and the solitude that had taken over her home now that all four of her children were out of the house. Part of her would have sold every material possession she had for one single day to go back to the time when all four of her children lived under her roof and needed her, for help, support and guidance. Growing up was much harder on her than she had ever expected it to be. Biting back a sigh, she shared, her voice clogged with emotion, "Just your father, Trixie. He's in his den, most likely reading the Sunday paper. Bobby was home for the weekend but he left in the early afternoon to return to Columbia. He won't be back until Friday afternoon, right before the rehearsal dinner. Brian stopped by for a visit but he's up at the Manor House now."

Out of habit, Trixie reached for the old cookie jar and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie. After taking a nibble and savoring the delicious morsel, she inquired casually, "Is Brian visiting Honey?"

"And the rest of the Bob-Whites," Helen answered easily but her eyes were shrewd, smart and didn't miss a thing. "Honey invited everyone over for dinner tonight. Everyone is home." She stressed _everyone_ but she really meant Jim.

"Oh," Trixie answered, her uneaten cookie forgotten in her hand. She absently laid it on the counter, outwardly composed but inside she was churning. It happened every single time. Her mother hadn't brought up his name, had merely alluded to him, but she knew that he would be up there, too. Unsure what to say next, she watched as her father came into the room, carrying the newspaper with him, and felt grateful for the interruption.

"Do you need any help with the clean-up, Helen?" he questioned, his attention focused on the paper in his hand and not on any of the inhabitants in the room.

"Your timing is impeccable, as usual. The work's all done." Helen's grin grew. He hadn't seen their daughter. From the expression on his face, he hadn't heard her, either. "Take off your reading glasses, Peter, and take a look around," she suggested with an impish grin. She folded her hands together and prepared herself for his reaction.

Curious, he slipped off his glasses and did just that. His face reflected first his shock, then disbelief, and, last, acceptance, before he dropped his glasses and the paper on the kitchen table without a second thought. His long legs ate up the floor in three long strides before he reached Trixie and hugged her just as tightly as his wife had a few minutes earlier. "What a present. I'm so glad you're home, Princess," he murmured.

"It's wonderful to be home," she answered, her words true. The cologne her father had worn since the time she had been a baby assaulted her, was as much a part of her memories of him as his black hair, dark eyes and handsome smile. Tears stung again before she blinked them away. "I missed everyone too much."

Too much. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to move back home then but he didn't. Should she ever move back, it had to be her own decision and on her own terms. "We missed you, too," he settled for instead. He dropped an arm around Helen's shoulders and squeezed her to him, presenting the united front they had always been. "What brings you home early?"

She shrugged a slim shoulder. "Work, actually. It cleared up a little earlier than I expected it to." For that she was forever grateful. She had the Chief's promise that she was not to be disturbed for her entire two weeks off. Many of her vacations home had been cut short over the years, for one reason or another. Necessary and important, each and every new assignment, but she was damned if that was going to happen this time. She wanted to enjoy her time, every last precious second.

"You'll have to thank your supervisor for us," Peter remarked, wondering how she would respond. None of them knew that much about her work. Trixie hardly talked about it at all, always hiding behind the clause of client confidentiality. He had never brought it up to Helen but he was more than curious about her job. There had been times when he imagined it had to be something different than a mere private investigator. Then he would laugh at himself, unable to come up with what an alternative for what her job could be, and think that Trixie's ability to be suspicious of almost anything had finally rubbed off on him.

As she usually did when her job was brought up, Trixie overlooked it and smoothly changed the subject. "Moms mentioned a few minutes ago that Brian stopped in to visit. How is everything with their house? I didn't get a chance to ask Honey about it the last time we talked. We talked about the wedding instead."

"The house is finally complete," Peter answered, unsurprised by the change in subject. He let her do it, just as he always did, and added, "Brian moved in about three weeks ago. They have it almost completely finished and furnished. Only a few small odds and ends need to be completed."

"It's beautiful," Helen added happily, thinking about the house with a sweet sigh. It was brand new, built on the edge of the game preserve. The land had been an early wedding gift from the Wheelers. A tall Colonial, bright white with dark green shutters and trim. It suited the couple beautifully…and both sets of parents, as well. They were yet another couple set up only a short car ride away. In Helen's opinion, it didn't get much better than that. She only wished that the span of the entire country didn't exist between her home and her daughter's.

"I'll need a tour. Honey has sent a few pictures here and there of the house in its various stages of construction but I'd much rather see it in person." Trixie glanced in the direction of the Manor House, itching to get up to see them…well, most of them, anyway.

Understanding perfectly, Helen nodded. She needed her brothers and friends as much as she needed her parents. It was a need that had never changed, for any of the seven of them. The bond that had been formed in their teenage years ran deep. "They won't be happy if you don't stop up to see them, Trixie," she declared quietly. "You can't call them on the phone or wait until tomorrow. They'll want to see you tonight."

"I know," Trixie murmured and shifted her weight impatiently from foot to foot.

Exchanging an understanding look with his wife, Peter opened the refrigerator and pulled out a container of leftovers. "Stay and have a bite to eat, Trixie," he ordered her softly. "You've got to be hungry after your trip. You can head up to the house afterwards."

"That's a good idea, Daddy. I like it." It sounded good to her. She couldn't argue with a few more minutes with her parents. She didn't admit that it bought her a few more much-needed minutes before facing Jim again. Accepting the chicken salad and the bread, she put together a generous sandwich and sat down in her usual spot at the table, listening to her parents as they brought her up-to-date on the normal, every-day happenings around Sleepyside and an aging Reddy trumbled over to lick up the crumbs that fell to the floor.

Fifteen minutes later, her hunger appeased, she started up the path as the golden sun barely skimmed above the horizon. The desire to see everyone was there and yet, she wasn't in a hurry to see Jim. It would happen, as it always did, but she had never been able to build up an immunity against it. No matter what, the sight of him always hurt. Always. Her training came in handy, helped her hide the depth of her true feelings from everyone, but it didn't solve the issue or make it go away. Sucking in a deep breath, cursing under her breath for feeling more like an unsettled, gawky teenager than the sophisticated and successful agent she knew herself to be, she picked up the pace. At the very least, she would exude an aura of self-confidence, even if it wasn't an accurate portrayal of her emotions. Satisfied she had that settled, she broke through the edge of the path. The Manor House in all its impressive, aristocratic glory stood before her.

Trained to observe, she noted the cars first. A newer model sedan in dark purple. She didn't have to read the registration to know that it belonged to one Diana Lynch Belden. Next, there was a black pick-up truck with mud on its tires, an American flag stuck to its rear bumper, and a few dings and dents along each side. When fired up, it would run smooth and clean despite its outward appearance. She ought to know. She had ridden in it often enough ever since the owner had purchased it years ago. Last, she noticed the dark green SUV. It puzzled her only for a moment. Once she identified the tag dangling down from the rearview mirror, she understood who it belonged to. Jim. He must have finally traded in his Jeep, she thought with a small scowl, finding it hard to imagine Jim driving anything but that particular vehicle. No one had mentioned to her that he had invested in a new car. But, then again, she hadn't actually talked with many of her friends since her last visit home. Texts and emails had served as her best mode of communication. They knew not to bring him up to her.

Shadows were just starting to darken. Although only friendly and beloved faces were awaiting her, Trixie couldn't have been more nervous than if she was preparing to infiltrate an enemy's compound. Happy voices, lifted in cheerful jests and shared conversations, traveled back to her as the early spring breeze floated around her, letting her know that her family and friends had gathered on the front porch, most likely for a delicious dessert after a full dinner. Now or never. She squared her shoulders, focused on the thought that all of the Bob-Whites were going to be there, and sauntered her way across the front lawn.

Her smile touched her eyes, made them sparkle and glow, while she neared the house, as prepared for the upcoming meeting as she was going to get. When she neared the porch, she saw her instincts were right on the money. They were gathered around with paper plates in their hands, staring off in the opposite direction from her, most likely listening to Jim as he expounded upon the details of his new car. The nerves continued to dance but she batted them down. Whatever mess that she and Jim had made together all those years ago, there was no discounting the fact that their friends were honest and true, straight through to the core, to both of them, exactly the way she wanted it to be. Rocking back on her heels, her face bright and beaming, she waited as patiently as she could for someone to notice her presence.

"It's a shame you parked next to that old hunk of junk," Mart joked playfully, sparing a disparaging glance towards Dan's old truck, and giving his best friend a playful jab to the shoulder. "It takes a bit off of the shine of your new car, Jim."

Dan glanced over at his irritating friend, a scowl on his face, ready to pounce on Mart for daring to taunt his trusty old truck for the second time that evening, when he caught the sight of the silent woman at the base of the front porch. He did a double-take. Forgetting Mart's provoking words, he placed his plate down on a small white wicker table and brushed the crumbs off his fingers. With his back to the others, he started to cross the front porch.

Mart blew out a breath and contemplated the ceiling, misreading his friend completely. "Hell, Dan. It's not worth leaving over. Come on, man. I thought you could take a joke. If it makes you feel better, I'll even take it back," he offered in a wheedling tone.

"Mart. You need to stop," Di ordered him under her breath, watching their friend stride swiftly away with a bounce to his step that belied the fact that all of them believed him to be annoyed. Bewildered, she cocked her head to the side and pondered the reason for it. Something was off, of that she was certain.

Honey's head perked up. Picking up on it with the same instincts as Di, she leaned over the railing, and observed Dan closely. She saw exactly where he was heading and didn't blame him at all for deserting the ship. She was about to, too. A lovely blonde, standing at the base of her porch, with her hands on her hips and a smile adorning her face. Nothing but a small squeak came out of her mouth, punctuated closely by an, "Oh my God," that had the others more interested than before. She rose and, tossing a bright smile at her fiancé which told him something wonderful was about to happen, rushed after Dan.

With Dan and Honey abandoning them at an alarming rate, Jim followed them closely with his sharp gaze. The shadow on the lawn drew his gaze. He watched curiously as the person who created it stepped closer into view and had his own world tilt to the side before it righted itself, leaving his insides tied in knots and his breath stuck in his throat. It happened every single time he saw her again, without fail. Every single time. It was as strong as a punch to his gut or a blow to his head. It left him breathless and exposed, if only for a minute.

Dan practically galloped down the steps, his irritation with Mart forgotten. "Hey, Hollywood!" he called out loudly, using the nickname he had gifted her with soon after she had moved out to California, plainly letting the others know who was home in case they hadn't figured it out yet. "What the hell is this? You've finally managed the impossible. I can't believe it. It's got to be a first. You're home early. You're never home early."

Trixie's face lit up when his arms opened to her. She accepted the hug. This was what she needed, what she missed when she was in California. She needed all of them, so very much. A delighted laugh trilled out when he picked off her feet. "Imagine that," she responded dryly after Dan deposited her back on the ground. "I can be early."

"Will wonders never cease," Brian mumbled, a hand wrapped around the railing while he watched his shy and retiring fiancée physically push Dan out of the way and claim Trixie for herself. The two friends touched their foreheads together and then giggled like a couple of first-graders who had been cruelly separated from each other for an entire weekend. The sight made him smile. Content to wait his turn, knowing he didn't have much of a choice, he watched Mart and Di come down the front steps, and then saw Jim move to take the spot across from him. He couldn't read his best man's expression but that was nothing new. Both Trixie and Jim were extremely adept at hiding their true feelings from everyone around them.

"I still don't know why you insist on calling her Hollywood," Mart remarked into the ensuing chaos as Di took Honey's place. Although it practically killed him to do so, he stood by, impatiently, and used the time to take umbrage with the nickname Dan had exchanged Freckles for years before. "She doesn't live in Hollywood, Dan," he added helpfully, just in case Dan wasn't aware of her actual physical address.

"She's close enough." He gave a shrug, unable to keep the grin from splitting his lips when Di refused to let her sister-in-law go and hugged her again, with a few tears sparkling on her spiky eyelashes. "Somehow, Martin, I don't think Balboa Park or San Diego Padre has quite the same ring to it, do you? Or what about Sea World?"

Because he was ecstatic to see his only sister, he didn't offer his normal witty comeback. Instead, he grabbed her as soon as she was finally free from the clutches of his wife. Matching blue eyes stared back at him, a little watery, overly bright, and glittering in the fading sunlight. "I didn't think you were getting in until tomorrow," he came up with after a close study, amazingly at a loss for words.

She kept her eyes on her brother, refusing to let her gaze slide to the redhead standing at the top of the porch, opposite her oldest brother. She could just make him out with her peripheral vision. "I finished up early," Trixie explained, her face flushed with the wonderful greeting she was receiving while her heart started to beat out a rapid tattoo for the one who hadn't said a word to her yet and who hadn't made a move to come down and greet her. "And I couldn't wait any longer. When I called the airport to see if I could switch my tickets from tomorrow to today, I was told no problem. So, here I am," she said, spreading her arms out in front of her, and then chuckled when Mart unceremoniously took his old Yankees hat off of her head. Curls spilled out in a riotous, messy waterfall, going every which way since she hadn't bothered to use anything else but the hat to tame them.

Mart immediately plopped the old, and slightly dilapidated, hat on his head, much to his wife's dismay, and ran a finger along the ripped and torn brim. "It feels good to have my old hat back again," he announced, one lip curling up. It was a tradition between them. He always gave her the hat before she left Sleepyside.

And she always returned it to him when she came home, without fail. "Don't I always?" she murmured rhetorically, her dimples winking besides each cheek.

"You certainly do. Hollywood," Mart tacked on teasingly, using Dan's nickname for her.

Trixie gave a small shake of her head before turning to Brian. "Hi, Brian," she said, staring up at her older brother while he descended the steps.

"Trixie. You didn't tell me there was a chance you'd be home early when I talked to you yesterday," he told her before gathering her in his arms for a warm, gentle hug.

"I didn't know," she answered truthfully. "You caught me in-between meetings, right? I found out after the second one. When I found out I wasn't needed anymore, I did what I could to get home today instead of tomorrow."

Jim stood back, hands hanging loosely at his side. Feeling safe, thinking no one was watching him, he watched with a hungry look to his eyes that the others missed and he wasn't able to quench. Details. He noticed everything, devoured it all, from the plain black T-shirt she wore to the drab olive gray cargo pants that slung low across her hips. Worn black boots covered her feet. Not an ounce of make-up was on her face and yet she looked radiant. The long, blonde curls that were both a blessing and a curse to him flowed around her head and over her shoulders. They were lifted with the wind. He followed her hand as she reached up and tucked the stray strand back behind her ear. Her blue eyes were twinkling and merry but weren't looking at him. At the moment they were focused on his best friend, her brother. He was well aware of the fact that her eyes would lose their twinkle the second she saw him, as they always did. Her smile would fade away and change into something distant and polite. There wouldn't be a hint of true laughter to her voice. And her body would go stiff before she forced it to relax. It happened the first time they met after a long break apart. He could catalogue each change, almost down to the second. He would offer a perfunctory greeting himself, which she would echo back, and then they would drift away. That would be their entire conversation the whole time she was home unless they were unlucky enough to cross each other's paths again. Then it would be repeated, the uncomfortable cycle they found themselves in.

Understanding him perfectly, Honey slid her gaze towards him. For a moment she saw something flashing across his face that she couldn't decipher. It gave her a fleeting moment of hope that maybe, just maybe, the situation wasn't quite as discouraging as she thought it was. But then it was gone, whatever it was, whatever it meant, and whatever it promised, and he looked the same way he always did when he was near Trixie. As frustrated as she got with both of them, her kind heart could never overlook the fact that both of them had been hurt and, if she didn't miss her guess, were still hurting. She didn't say anything. Words weren't necessary. Waiting until he noticed her, she nodded up at him, letting him know that she was there for him.

Her nod spurred him on. It was his turn, whether he wanted it to be or not. His sneakered feet took the steps at a quick clip but he didn't say anything. Instead, he waited until she let go of Brian and then said evenly, "Hey, Trixie."

No move to embrace her, no large, welcoming, lopsided grin, and no sparkle to the emerald green that came to her in countless dreams, when her guard was down and her secret desires overtook her. She would never admit it to anyone, least of all herself. Not that she had expected anything different. They were both experts at maintaining a good, safe distance between the each other. Like for like, she responded with the same even tone, about as warm as the nearby water in the Hudson River, "Hi, Jim."

"How's work going?" he asked after a second of pure silence descended upon them. He settled for the old stand-by since he had to say something.

"Oh, fine. It's fine," she answered back, working hard to keep the smile pinned on her lips and completely unaware that it looked a little forced and not at all like the one she had given to the rest of the Bob-Whites. Anxious fingers brushed aside a stray curl while she inanely wished that she had taken the time to do something with her hair. Battling another bout of uncomfortable silence, she inquired because she knew the other five were watching them, "What about you?"

"Yeah. It's good. Busy," he replied and then stepped away from her.

Di shared a knowing glance with Dan, who lifted a dark eyebrow in appreciation of their performance only an hour ago in the Wheeler's dining room, while Mart and Brian rolled their eyes and Honey frowned at all of them. Hard. When none of the others jumped in to help out their floundering co-presidents, Honey cleared her throat and threw Trixie a life-preserver since she couldn't complete her favored way of leaving Jim to search out a friend, not in their current position with all friends acting as an avid and interested audience. "We just finished eating, Trixie, and were having dessert out here on the porch. There's plenty of cake left."

The look she gave Honey was filled with gratitude. Her voice returned to normal. "Thanks, Honey. I never turn down cake."

Now that the most uncomfortable greeting was over, Di clasped her hands together. Fighting the urge to jump up and down, grinning from ear to ear, she wondered aloud, unconsciously speaking the question that was on everyone's minds, "How did you get here so early, Trixie? I hesitate to use this word in front of you but, well, we've all got to be curious about it."

Glad to be on a more comfortable subject, Trixie lifted her shoulders. "I had a few meetings yesterday. They didn't take as long as I thought they would and I wasn't given a small chore that I had been expecting. So, the second my last meeting ended, I made a few phone calls, hopped a plane, and flew home." It hadn't been a difficult decision to make. She had thrown a few clothes in her suitcases, changed her flight reservations, and had been on her way with a few hasty farewells to Max, Jocelyn and Heidi, with the reminder that she was completely off the clock and wasn't going to answer any calls from the agency for the duration of her trip.

Brian hugged her again, more for moral support than anything else. He whispered quietly, "I'm glad you did, Trix."

"We were just handing out the dessert," Dan put in, for the first time speaking up since he had spotted her. He was another one who had watched Jim closely and had seen the exact same something that Honey had. It was merely a matter of what it could mean. Going with the easy, he poked Mart in the stomach and announced, "It seemed like Mart, here, couldn't wait any longer for the cake and ice cream."

"It's delicious," Honey said. "Angel food cake this time, topped with white icing. We have chocolate ice cream, too, for all the chocoholics in our midst." She grabbed Trixie's hand and led her up to the porch where she passed by Jim. "Come on, Trix."

Trixie's heart pounded in her throat when she walked near Jim, so close that she could touch him if she wanted to. They worked hard to keep a distance between them. She found herself settled on the wicker loveseat, a paper plate in her hand, and a glass of milk at her side. It was almost a perfect homecoming for her. She was always amazed that no one ever questioned her decision to live across the country, in a place as far away from Sleepyside as she could get. "What are the plans for the rest of the evening?" she inquired after taking a bite.

"Dessert and that's it. It seems that some of us can't function if we're not in bed by nine o'clock anymore," Dan declared with a nod of his head towards Mart and picked up his plate.

"Hey," Mart grumbled under his breath, thinking about his early wake-up and that damn buzzer he would like to shoot. His alarm clock was fast becoming a foe of his. "I roll in to the station at four-thirty in the morning to get ready for the early morning news. I doubt you have to show up that early, Mangan." Even though it was early, each morning he appeared bright and wide-awake for the viewing audience. Only he (and Di) knew how hard it was to motivate him to function that early in the morning.

Dan grunted in reply. There were some days where he worked double or even triple shifts, sometimes with only a smidgeon of a break, if he was lucky. He glanced at Trixie, knowing that she carried as hectic and unpredictable of a schedule as he did. About to ask for her assistance in putting a smugly smiling Mart in his place, he was distracted by noticing the shadows under her eyes for the first time and an almost weary look to her that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. Well aware of the fact that she wasn't able to give full disclosure on any case, even more aware that she wouldn't appreciate being poked and prodded at on her first evening home and in front of the others, he mentally filed it away for future use and future questioning. Long fingers tapping along the smooth wood of the railing, he wondered if she would give him the run-around or as true of an answer as her ethics would allow...or maybe even the full story. He had the charm to get it out of her…maybe, he mused.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" Trixie asked after finishing the rest of her cake. Stretching out her legs, finally noticing all of the kinks brought on by countless hours of sitting still while traveling, her lips tipped up while she waited for the answer.

Honey blew out a frustrated breath when she noticed that Jim had parked himself against the railing. On the far side of the porch. A good six feet of distance resided between him and Trixie. Typical, she thought with a scowl she resolutely smoothed away. She let him off the hook for the moment but once they were alone, she had something to discuss with him. Leaving that for later and in private, she focused on Trixie and declared, "Now that you're here, you'll be coming over with Di to help me tomorrow, Trixie. My mother, your mother and Miss Trask will be going over some important information, too."

"Like the seating chart?" Trixie brought up with a mischievous glint to her eyes that had Brian closing his eyes in resignation and groaning.

Honey squeezed her eyes shut and gave an exaggerated shudder. The seating chart had proved to be the bane of her wedding planning. The Belden side was extremely easy to place. It was her mother's family, and her mother's friends and acquaintances, that were proving to be the sticking point. Someone would end up being offended, of that she had no doubt, but she was going to leave it in her mother's more than capable hands. She was finished with it. It wasn't worth the headache. "Good Lord, yes. But I'm not touching that one any longer. They can do what they want with it as far as I'm concerned."

Jim took his last bite of cake, more to keep his hands busy than for actually wanting to eat the delicacy, and listened in to the conversation. The realization hit him then, that Trixie was going to be at his house tomorrow, probably right after breakfast. He needed something to do, to spend a good part of the day outside and away. He made eye contact with Dan, who stood near him, and muttered lowly, "You have anything going on tomorrow?"

"Nope," Dan answered cheerfully. "I'll be sleeping in, though. No crack of dawn crap for me."

"Want to take the horses out?" Jim offered, keeping his voice quiet so Trixie wouldn't hear. She didn't appear to. Instead, she was listening to Honey expound upon the horrors of the seating chart and doing her best not to laugh in the bride-to-be's face.

"No problem. I'm serious about sleeping late, though. Don't expect me until eleven…maybe," he tacked on as an afterthought. "I'm not going to be setting my alarm at all this week. I want to enjoy my sleep." He was tired himself and had been working twice as much as he should have been on his latest case. It had caught up to him. The time away from his field division couldn't have come at a better time.

"Okay. Give me a call when you're ready. I'll meet you at the stables." Satisfied that he had a created a good reason to keep him out of the house for at least part of the day, at least, he leaned back against the railing. A boisterous round of laughter came from the opposite side, where Trixie, Di and Honey were giggling like a gaggle of geese. Not surprising, he didn't notice the other two, only found the blonde. Longing, deep and head, speared through him, so hard and so fast that he was left momentarily defenseless.

Dan heard the gasp, correctly understood the cause and gave a friendly pat to Jim's shoulder. He leaned forward, whispered lower than before, and, taking his life into his own hands, said, "You know, she's the one you really need to ask to go for a ride with. Maybe you two would actually be able to get a few things settled between you." Not bothering to wait for a reply or to see how Jim had taken his suggestion, he carried his plate over to the matching wicker basket that served as a garbage can and dropped his trash inside.

Truer words had never been spoken. At least, not to him. But, as Jim contemplated the suggestion, he immediately pushed it aside. Wasn't going to happen, as far as he was concerned. He had no desire to let her back in, even the tiniest little bit. As her blue eyes collided with his, he read the same steely resolve within hers. Incredibly, it was something they both agreed on. Unspoken, unbroken, and completely understood, by the two of them. Both were more than content to leave their relationship in the shambles that it was currently in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Five

Honey leaned over the railing, watching their friends leave the house. While she had known the evening would be enjoyable, she hadn't expected it to be as wonderful as it had turned out to be. Her hazel eyes lit up with approval while Brian and Trixie shared another round of farewells with the others and then started the trek across the lawn towards the path that would take them back to Crabapple Farm. It amazed her that Trixie was already home, a full day early, and ready to help with the hectic week. There was only one tiny little practically insignificant issue to be dealt with. She turned to Jim with an indecipherable expression on her face. Something needed to be done, no matter how hard it was going to be for him to hear or how difficult it was going to be for her to bring it up. Swallowing a sigh, searching for the courage to do it, she inquired quietly, her voice cutting through the stillness of the soft violet twilight, "Are you coming in?"

Having no intentions of leaving the porch, he shook his head and mumbled, a slight flush working its way across his handsome face, "In a minute, Honey. I'm going to clean up out here first. Celia and the rest of the staff have enough to worry about this week." It was a pitiful excuse, more of a ploy than anything else, especially since the porch was in perfectly good shape but he couldn't come up with anything better. He couldn't leave, not until he had seen her go.

Understanding dawned immediately and gave her the courage to go forward with what she had to do. It was humorous to watch her brother fiddle with the small white plastic bag filled with the trash from their dessert and desperately trying not to aim his eyes towards the departing duo while she stood near him. Helping out the staff, indeed, she practically sniffed. He didn't fool her for a minute. Fighting the urge to chuckle, she let him have the illusion that she didn't know why he really wanted to stay out on the porch. "I'll, ah, see you inside, then," she said, her lips twitching in unsuppressed mirth. She didn't bother to offer to stay and help him. He wouldn't appreciate it and would probably toss her through the door to get rid of her.

He let out a large, relieved breath when she went inside, leaving him blissfully alone. Jim raised an absent hand in farewell when Mart and Di, and then Dan, drove past the house and down the hill, on their way to their respective homes. Feeling secure in the fact that no one would be observing him, he dropped the bag to the porch and rested his head against a smooth post. Intense green eyes followed Brian and Trixie as they loped across the lawn. Their voices floated back to him, as did their laughter, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He could, however, see her perfectly. She walked with an unconscious verve to her, as she always did, a promise of the large, untapped store of energy contained within her petite body. Although it was well and truly a chapter in his past with no chance of a rewrite, he had held her for long enough of a time to know that it was more than a mere promise. She came by it honestly. She owned all the energy, all the drive, all the spirit. It continued to pull him towards her in spite of his resolve and his conviction to rally against it. He cursed himself, quite vividly, for not being able to tear his eyes away from her until the shadows swallowed her whole and she was finally gone from sight. For a long time he kept his present position, one hand wrapped around the post like it was a lifeline, and his gaze trained on the spot she had disappeared into. An ache came, one that started straight from his soul and worked its way out. It had to get better. It simply had to, he kept telling himself.

Not being anyone's fool, Honey waited for him at the base of the sweeping staircase, one hand on the newel knob, and a knowing yet sympathetic smile on her face, when he came into the house. "What took you so long?" she inquired innocently, tongue tucked into her cheek. She glanced at the gilded antique clock presiding over the household from high above a wooden shelf and tried not to chuckle.

Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, he managed to catch himself before he jumped when he heard her voice. He whipped his face towards her and hid an internal groan. She hadn't been fooled. He must be more translucent than glass, he realized, chagrinned. "Nothing," Jim replied shortly under his breath, shrugging his shoulder and closing the door behind him.

"All right," she replied neutrally but her lone arched eyebrow let him know that his instincts were on the money. She hadn't missed the true reason why he had wanted to 'clean up' the porch. Since he obviously didn't like being seen through, she didn't call him on it but she did wonder how he was going to feel when she was done with him. Gesturing towards the stairs, she invited pleasantly, "Now that you've finished tidying up the porch, let's set the place. Where do you want to talk, Jim? Down here or upstairs?"

"Talk?" he repeated, eyeing her cautiously, his fingers gripping the plastic bag tighter than necessary. He didn't want to talk to her, not when she had that shrewd gleam to her eyes. It made him…nervous. Yeah, he didn't want to carry on any kind of a conversation with her right now. He was no fool, either. He tried to sound casual but was afraid it didn't come across that way. "About what, Honey?"

She slapped a hand on her hip, stared him down, and said with a perfectly applied amount of sarcasm that had him groaning, "Really, Jim. I'm a little disappointed here. You graduated with a degree from Harvard Law School. I think you can figure out what I want to talk to you about. It's not that hard. It's the only unresolved issue in your life."

Oh, he could figure it out. He just could. A small tension headache began to form on both sides of his temple, telling him plainly that he didn't want to have this conversation with her, now or at any other time in the future. It had been a long time since Honey had attempted to talk to him about Trixie. "Great. Just great," he grumbled discontentedly and stuffed a hand into his pocket. He remembered the last time well enough. She had cornered him in his apartment in Cambridge, right after his graduation from law school and before they left to meet everyone for dinner at their mother's favorite restaurant in town. An unpleasant agenda had been written across her face then. It was the same look she carried now. She wouldn't settle for anything less than what she wanted to hear from him. That evening, Honey had forced him to share, at least a little, about how he felt over the fact that Trixie hadn't been able to make it to his graduation from Harvard. She had promised to come, her promise coming to him in a round-about way via Honey, the same way his invitation to her had been placed, but she hadn't been able to see it through. Something had come up at the last possible minute and her seat had sat empty. He still didn't know what had kept her away. He had heard rumblings from the rest of the Bob-Whites about an unexpected case but he had never asked for the specifics, from her or from anyone else. If he had, everyone would have seen how much her absence from such an important day for him had hurt. He hoped he had successfully hidden it from Honey but, judging from her current expression, he highly doubted it.

When he didn't choose a place, she threw her hands up in the air and selected one for him. "Upstairs. I'll meet you upstairs, Jim. And remember. It's not nice to keep the bride waiting." With everything settled to her satisfaction, Honey pivoted on her trendy heels and ascended the steps, her shoulders stiff and her back straight as if she was a general preparing for an upcoming battle.

Because he didn't want to face another line of Honey's interrogation skills, he spent an inordinate length of time in the kitchen. He deposited the small garbage bag. He even took the time to pour out a full glass of freshly brewed and overly sweet iced tea which he didn't want in the least but made certain to drink every last drop of it, and then, feeling like a condemned man, he completed the long trek up the stairs. When he reached the top, he paused on the landing, stared down at the front door. His last hope was that his parents would come home from their dinner at the country club but fate didn't appear to be on his side. No one arrived to help him out or distract Honey. Frustrated, and not eager to face the subject Honey was determined to bring up, he stalked down the carpeted hallway and paused by her door. It was wide open, practically taunting him to come in and begin. Hoping it would feel better to have the interrogation done on his territory, he opened his own door and barked out over his shoulder, unwilling to issue a welcome to his room, "I'm here, Honey."

His room, then. She nodded in acceptance. It made more sense than hers. Her room was currently filled to overflowing with rolls of bubble wrap, permanent markers, newspapers, and empty boxes, just waiting for her to fill them up with her belongings and move them into her new home with Brian. It would also help him feel like he had some semblance of control. Without wasting a second, Honey shot off of her bed and followed him in, like a dog hounding its owner, and began immediately, her words practically tumbling out of her mouth the second she entered his room, "Now, Jim, I don't want to put you on the defensive or anything, I really don't, but there is something I really need to discuss with you."

"You made that loud and clear downstairs," he remarked sarcastically. Needing a distraction of the serious kind, he flipped open his laptop and thumbed his way through to his email account. Luck was not with him again. Nothing had been sent to him recently. Not a damn email. He almost wished he had received one from the business department at W&H, International, demanding that he call them as soon as he possibly could. But…nothing. "Figures," he mumbled lowly and closed it out. Yet another avenue of escape that was not available to him.

She laughed, an anxious little giggle that sounded foreign to her own ears. She would have liked to have pushed this little task off on Brian but, somehow, having the brother of the ex-girlfriend in question make her request didn't seem appropriate in the least. Regrettably, it fell on her shoulders. She didn't say another word. Instead, she held up a thick scrapbook the color of violets on a beautiful spring day and showed it to him. "What's this, Jim?" she inquired brightly.

"It's been a long time since we've played Twenty Questions," he noted with a cynical curl to his lips.

"You're right," she answered objectively. One of the most memorable times she had of the game floated back at her. It certainly was not the most pleasant of memories. Being caught in the rising waters of a flood was never a good idea, no matter how one looked at it, but at least she had survived it with her best friend and her brother by her side. And a puppy. She couldn't forget little Moses. "But you haven't answered my question. What is it?"

"A scrapbook," he replied immediately and looked around his neat, tidy room. There was nothing out of place or that needed straightening up. He couldn't find one thing to offer him an excuse to send her on her way. Being trapped sucked.

"Exactly. It is a scrapbook," she answered brightly. Bowing her head, she opened the book to the middle section and held it out to him. She grinned when he didn't take it at first. "Go on. It won't bite, Jim."

Because it was obvious she wanted him to take it from her and wouldn't give up until he did, he accepted, but slowly and carefully. He was more cautious now than he had been downstairs. He looked down and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Nothing ominous stared back at him; only a collection of happy, smiling, and extremely familiar people. People he loved and who loved him back. "It's Mart and Di's wedding," he noted quietly and started flipping through the pages, smiling slightly as he did so. With his hectic work schedule and the fact that he wasn't in Sleepyside all that much, he hadn't seen many of the photos from the wedding, only the few that had been emailed to him.

"You're right," Honey answered easily. She inched closer and explained, "I put the scrapbook together in my free time after the wedding. They were our very first Bob-White couple to get married."

A light bulb flickered. "You and Brian will be the next one," Jim reminded her smoothly in a devious move. If he could get her talking about her favorite topic, then there was a good chance she would leave him blissfully alone…he could hope. He waited for her response and kept his fingers crossed. He could handle a few minutes of listening to her excited chatter over the wedding. It was the other subject he didn't want to talk about.

"In six days." Closing her eyes, she let the vision of it overtake her. It had come up so fast. She saw her gorgeous dress, her soft, lacy veil, her bouquet and the wonderful decorations, all done in ivory and gold. It all added up to make a truly memorable event. Most importantly, she saw the handsome man waiting for her at the end of the aisle, a smile on his face and a look that promised forever in his dark, beloved eyes. She hummed lightly in approval. "In only six days. I can't believe…" Then she stopped, opened her eyes, and frowned at him. "Good try, Frayne," she muttered, aware of the maneuver he had attempted to use. It had almost worked, much to her dismay. He knew her too well. "It's not going to work, though. You won't be distracting me from my purpose."

"It was worth a try," he replied with a small laugh. Bringing up the wedding had almost worked which meant that what she was going to say was extremely important to her and most likely extremely painful to him. He gritted his teeth and rubbed at the sudden tight knot forming around the base of his neck.

She shook her head. "We'll table the talk of my wedding for a few minutes. I'll be glad to pick it up later, though, if you want. There's nothing I like better than to go over the millions and millions of details."

He looked pained. The last thing he wanted to hear was more wedding plans. "Let's see if I survive your first topic," he suggested with a small trace of humor.

"Good idea, Jim. We'll get back to the matter at hand. Mart and Di's wedding, remember? What do you see in the pictures?" Honey rocked back on her heels, her thumbs tucked into her back pockets, and watched him with a look that should have been innocent but seemed more hawkish than anything.

Oh, hell. There had to be a trap somewhere. He could see it hiding behind the small smile on her face, just waiting to be sprung on him and catch him until he told her whatever she wanted to know. He looked at the pictures closely but didn't see anything out of the ordinary or that would warrant a cross-examination. Going with the facts, as he had been taught to do, he stated evenly, "There are lots of pictures of Di and Mart, you and Brian, as well as the rest of us, from the wedding." He didn't offer anything else, only waited until she was ready to pounce.

Content to toy with him a little longer, she tapped a manicured finger against her lips and murmured, "Hmm." Then she stood on her tiptoes, flipped the pages backwards until she got to the one spread she needed to enlighten him on, and peered closely at the book. "Yes. This is it. Right here. Tell me, Jim. What do you notice about this picture? Or this one?"

He followed her perfectly manicured fingers, saw the pictures. Two group shots of the Bob-Whites, one after the wedding and the other during the reception. Again, nothing menacing but it was coming, whatever it was. He could feel it in the air. "It's us. The Bob-Whites. We all look happy for Mart and Di." It was a scramble for him to come up with anything else. He honestly didn't have a clue about what she wanted him to say or even what she was going to point out to him.

"I agree with you. We do look happy." She pulled back to stare at him and waited until he shifted his weight uneasily. "Are you certain you don't notice anything…odd about these two pictures?"

He fought back a wave of exasperation. "Honey, I spend most of my days at work reading over contracts and such. It's even more fun when I write them myself. I'm not a detective." Exhaling slowly, flushing at his poor choice of words, he forged on and declared with forced calm, "I honestly don't have a clue what you are trying to point out to me."

"Yes. I can see that." Satisfied, she nodded her head sagely and dropped back from him. Honey smoothed a hand over her hair and intentionally didn't saw another word. With the patience of a saint, she waited for him to ask.

Damn it. She was going to make him ask her. He waited a whole sixty seconds before giving in with an inward groan of frustration, knowing that he was falling right into her more than capable hands. "You're going to have to tell me. What is it, Honey? What do you want me to see in the pictures?"

She sat down serenely on the edge of his bed and patted a spot next to her, looking like she was getting ready to serve a formal tea instead of preparing to bring up an extremely touchy and uncomfortable subject. He reluctantly accepted and sat down next to her. "It's you, Jim. And it's Trixie. Look closely at the two pictures I pointed out to you again and tell me if you notice what I noticed the second I started thumbing through them."

"We're in the same picture, Honey. What's so wrong about it?" Jim's lips fell into a small sneer.

"Nothing, except for the fact that you always plant yourself as far away from Trixie as you can get. You did it tonight when we were on the porch. You're not the only one, though. She's just as guilt as you. She makes certain that you two are never standing next to each other, either." Honey didn't look at him. Instead, she studied the pictures, focused on the ex-couple in question. She didn't want to remember her wedding with a symbolic separation between any of her friends. She wanted them all to be genuinely happy and comfortable with each other.

"So you want me and Trixie to stand near each other every now and then." It wasn't a horrible demand, he thought with a shrug. He could handle it. Jim nodded his head curtly. "Done."

"That's not all, Jim." Honey bit the inside of her cheek and flipped to the next page. "I want you to take an even closer look at the other photos. You'll notice something else, too."

He muffled a curse. He was starting to get a stronger clue about what she meant. He saw photos of him with Brian, Mart and Dan. Photos of him with Honey and Di. There was an entire spread of the whole Wheeler-Frayne clan. He saw the Belden family, including Honey, in a large family portrait. There were a few pictures of Trixie with Honey and Di and of Trixie dancing with Dan. "I think I get it," he muttered under his breath.

"Do you? Do you, indeed?" Honey parroted back, her head inclined to the side and her eyes hard. "I'm going to spell it out for you, just in case. I'd rather be crystal clear with you, you understand. I don't want you to be under any possible misunderstandings here."

"Thanks. It does my heart good to know that," he remarked wryly. Wishing he hadn't sat down, feeling at an extreme disadvantage, he crossed his ankles and prepared himself. It was going to be even more uncomfortable than he had anticipated it to be.

"As you can see, I used different photos from the wedding to create my scrapbook," she began carefully, as if explaining it to a five year-old child instead of a man grown and on his way to his twenty-sixth birthday in a few months. "I picked out the best pictures, of course, and I also looked for ones of the Bob-Whites. I got Mart and Di. That's a no-brainer since it was, after all, their wedding. There are a few of me and Brian. Then I added in photos of Dan and Di or Mart and Trixie or of the rest of us in various other combinations. I even got the two group shots of all of us to add in. I was able to find pictures of everyone together except for…well, I think you know who I mean," she finished meaningfully, her eyebrows raised.

Did he ever. Jim stared up at the ceiling. He briefly wondered what the odds were for a freak hurricane to rip through Sleepyside at that very moment and take away their roof. Not very good was his answer. Grumbling, he muttered caustically, "Go on, Honey."

"There was this rather stubborn couple who didn't want to be in any pictures together. In the two pictures I have of them, they weren't even standing anywhere near each other. Book-ends, they were, and have been for a very long time. But we've already covered that," she declared, pointing with emphasis to one of the shots. Trixie at one end, he at the other, with a safety net of five Bob-Whites residing in-between them.

"Yeah, you're right. We covered it," he repeated through thin lips.

At least she was getting a reaction from him. It felt good to see honest emotion swirling in the depths of his eyes, even if she correctly guessed that he wouldn't mind at the moment if a hole opened up and swallowed her whole for having the audacity to make him face the unpleasant. "So, I said to myself, I've got to do something about this. I can't have this happening at my wedding. I won't have it. You and Trixie are too important to me."

He pushed himself off of the bed. "Honey, we didn't pose together. It's nothing new, certainly nothing that anyone should care about, and definitely not against the law. I can't remember the last time we stood next to each other for a picture. It's been years. What's the problem in that?" Jim inquired, running a hand through his red hair. A scowl marred his face.

"Normally I would agree you. I wouldn't try and interfere. I'd let the two of you continue to bungle it up, just as you've been doing for the past seven years," Honey said with a hint of sarcasm that caused a flush to creep across his cheeks. "But my wedding is a little different than Di's and Mart's."

"Why is that?" Normally, he wasn't so dense. He simply hadn't made the connection yet.

She lifted both eyebrows, stared at him incredulously. "You haven't realized it yet?" she questioned him, shocked. He was usually smarter about such matters. She honestly couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to him yet.

It took the span of two heartbeats for him to understand the implications. "Oh," whistled out through slack lips. It finally hit him, what she was trying to tell him.

Looking up at him, she folded her hands neatly and nodded. "I'll restate it for you, just in case you need it." Inhaling deeply, she proclaimed, stating the facts with a calmness that she didn't fully possess, "You're Brian's best man and Trixie is my maid of honor."

She allowed Jim a few seconds to respond. When he didn't, she continued, "That is what makes my wedding different from Di and Mart's wedding. You weren't partnered together. Sure, you stood for a couple of formal group shots here and there and even a few informal ones but it's going to be a little different on Saturday, Jim." She paused for a breath and then sailed on, hoping her words were making sense and not coming out in an illogical ramble, "Since you two are at the point for the wedding party, you are going to have to spend a good bit of the day in each other's company. Not only that but you're also going to have to actually have your picture taken together." She stared down at the last group shot. "You're not going to be able to hide between people, you know. You and Trixie are going to have stand next to each other, no matter how difficult you may find it to be."

The look of someone who hated having his private life prodded into flashed across his face. His words were clipped, as was his attitude. "Yeah. Right. I see."

Monosyllabic tones. It was going peachy, just the way she figured it would. Honey blew at a stray strand of her hair, knowing there was no tactful way for her to bring up her request to him. Tapping his arm, she didn't speak again until he stared back at her. His eyes were shuttered, she noted with an inward sigh, but she forged on. It was too important. She wanted…no, she deserved only happy memories from her wedding. "And, as your sister, I expect to see happy, smiling faces in my wedding photos when I look back at them. Did you hear me? _Happy, smiling faces_," she reiterated strongly. "No martyrs. I want to see that in all of my wedding photos. Do you understand what I'm saying now?"

Good Lord but Saturday was promising to be one of the hardest days of his life. "I understand," he repeated back, again without any inflection to his voice at all and barely resisted the urge to grimace. He and Trixie could barely speak five words to each other at a clip. He wondered how the hell they were going to smile for that damn camera or walk down the aisle together or, hell, even dance together. The headache surged again, stronger and more painful. He massaged the spot, hoping to ease it away. It didn't help.

"I want your word on this, Jim." She hated pushing the matter but, once her brother gave his word, there would be no turning back. He would stick to it. She stood up, stared him directly in the eyes, and demanded in a tone of voice he rarely heard her use, "I mean it."

"You have it." Jim couldn't hold back his agreement, as much as he wanted to, not when his sister had requested it of him. Yeah, it was going to be an extremely long day, he thought to himself. One edge of his mouth curled up when he remembered that there was an open bar at the reception. He wasn't much of a drinker but he figured a little fortification would help him immensely.

"Excellent." She blew out a slow, relieved breath. Half the battle was over. There was only one more casualty she needed to tend to. Nodding her head, she whispered, talking more to herself than to him, "I'll talk to Trixie about it tomorrow…"

"It may sound better coming from me," Jim interrupted and then stopped, appalled at the words coming from his mouth. His brow furrowed in amazement. Where the hell had that idea had come from? He glanced from side to side but the idea had definitely come from his own mouth. Worse, he didn't have any desire to take it back.

"Excuse me?" Honey pulled back, her hazel eyes wide and astonished. It was her turn to be stunned. She tapped her ear to make certain that she had heard him correctly. "Did you just say what I thought you just said? You want to talk to _Trixie_ about this? Yourself?" she squeaked in a high-pitched voice.

"I don't want to," he responded immediately. He had to be going crazy, he thought to himself, if he was actually volunteering to talk to Trixie about Honey's realistic expectations for them on Saturday. Honey wasn't requesting them to do anything unexpected or anything that should remotely be considered difficult. She was only asking them to be happy, for her sake and for Brian's. At a loss, he scrambled and came up with, "I, well…she may take it better from me than from you. Maybe we'll be able to come to a stronger agreement."

Her eyebrows snapped together. Interesting, was all she could think. Very, very interesting. "Okay," she responded slowly, taken aback and eyeing him in a calculating manner. "Going over this once was more than enough for me. If you really want to talk to Trixie yourself, then that's fine, especially if you think it's for the best." The idea took roots and began to grow. It had merit. He was probably right. She would take it better from him.

"I'll do it," he repeated again. This time he didn't look quite as surprised as he had the first time he had said it.

Since he seemed to be in a more agreeable mood than she had anticipated, Honey came to a quick decision. Now was the time for the second thing she wanted to discuss with him. She mumbled lowly, "There's something else, Jim. Stay right here. I'll be back in a minute." She propelled herself out of the room and sprinted across the hallway to her room. She was back in a flash and held out a small bag to him. "Here. This belongs to you. Take it."

He didn't have a clue about what she was offering him but he accepted it. Curious, he opened the bag, looked inside, and felt his heart plummet to the ground. "Honey," he began, a warning tone to his voice. It was worse than the talk about pictures and weddings.

"I'm moving out of the house, Jim," she responded, her arguments prepared. She wasn't going to let him refuse the items. They were his, after all. She didn't want to hold onto them any longer. "Most of my things are going to be brought over to my new house this week. I've held on to those things long enough for you. It's time to give them back to their rightful owner." It was past time but she wisely didn't voice it.

He set the bag on his bed, without touching the items inside, and insisted in a cool, distant voice, "But I don't want them."

"Tough. They aren't making the move with me to my new house and they aren't staying in my old room, either. They're yours, to do with whatever you want. They aren't mine," she vehemently retorted and crossed her arms over her chest. It was rare for her to get forceful.

"Fair enough." He didn't make a move to pick up the bag. He did, however, lift the scrapbook up from the bed and handed it over to his sister. As politely as he possibly could, as if two pieces of his rather shattered heart weren't mocking him on his own bed, he wondered aloud, "Do you have anything else for me?"

"No. Not that I can think of." Honey hated seeing the distant look to his face, the mask he used to hide his emotions from everyone whenever Trixie was brought up. Remembering the glimpse of that something she had seen flitter across his face only a few hours earlier when Trixie had surprised them, she took a deep breath, stiffened her back, and then suggested, her words coming out quick and fast in her normal fashion when she was tense, "If you would only read the letter, Jim, maybe it would help you. I only want you to be happy. It's obvious that you aren't, not completely." And neither was Trixie but Honey didn't say it. She had already overloaded the scales as much as she could.

He moved a shoulder and put a hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the door. "I have no intention of reading it," he informed her evenly.

"You'll regret it someday if you don't," Honey murmured back quietly. He would. She stared back at the bag, thought about the letter she had never opened herself. It had been tough to resist but she had never peeked inside the envelope. It wasn't hers.

"I highly doubt that." Jim almost laughed. He had gone long enough without reading it. He doubted if there was anything penned within that could solve any of their issues or help him forget what had happened. There was no desire in him to read it. As far as he was concerned, it merely represented a huge, gaping problem that had existed within their relationship. He hadn't been trusted enough. A tiny voice nagged in his ear, reminding him that Trixie hadn't felt respected enough by him but he ignored it. It was the past, as far as he was concerned.

She prayed that she had done the right thing by giving the items back to him. She hadn't wanted to carry on her role as the enabler anymore. Whatever he did with the letter and the ring was his decision now, not hers. She only wished he would choose the right one. With that in mind, she offered her next piece of advice softly, tentatively. "Don't tear it up or shred it or anything like that. There will come a day when you will want to read it. I know there will."

He rolled his eyes. He didn't know if he would have given in to those rather juvenile thoughts on his own. He liked to believe he wouldn't have but it wasn't a certainty. "Fine. I won't touch the damn thing."

"Thank you for that." It was the best he would do. She reached out, placed a hand she hoped was comforting on his arm. It amazed her to feel the tension within him. If only they could work out their problems, she thought with a wistful little sigh. If only…A smile trembled across her lips, for her brother and her best friend. "And thanks for listening, Jim. It couldn't have been easy for you."

"You didn't leave me much choice, Honey," he noted dryly.

It made her smile. If he was able to make a little bit of a quip, albeit a tiny one, he wasn't that angry with her or that hurt. Trailing a finger along the smooth wooden frame of the door, she said with a touch of defiance, "I know. You'll have to forgive me. It's my prerogative. After all, I am the bride." Honey aimed a winning grin his way, hoping to smooth out any of the remaining feathers she may have ruffled.

"And you'll make a beautiful one, at that." Although it took an effort, Jim called up an answering smile for her and then shooed her out. "You've got plans for tomorrow, if I remember correctly. You also have a very busy week. You'd better get some sleep, Honey. Saturday is going to be here before you know it."

"You're right. It's going to be a crazy, hectic, and quite wonderful week. I'm going to turn in." She disappeared through the door and walked across the hall to her room. Turning, she saw his door close and let out a long breath. He needed to be put back on the right path, as did Trixie. It was simply a shame they had to be the two most stubborn people she had ever met. She hoped they would be able to make some progress over the next week and went into her room.

Jim closed the door behind her with a quiet, deliberate snap and turned around, his back to it. He was left in his bedroom, alone. It was suddenly silent, deafeningly so. The small bag lay on his bed, calling to him. Wanting to ignore it, wishing it would simply vanish, he strode across the carpet and shook it a few times. The contents fell out. A small velvet box landed in the center of his dark brown comforter. A letter floated down, with his name written in her messy scrawl of a handwriting. He carefully picked up the two items and considered them for a long time but he didn't open either of them. Couldn't. There wasn't anything inside either of them but a sure trip back to his; no, he corrected himself, their broken dreams. Stoically, he walked them over to his desk. When they were nestled deep inside a drawer, he closed it tight. While he readied himself for bed and a sleep that would be a long time in the coming, his attention was constantly returning towards the desk. It contained two possessions of his that he most certainly could have done without.


	6. Chapter 6

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Six

Where the road meet gravel, Trixie rounded the corner, her feet pounding out an unconscious rhythm to the current song on her iPod, and slowed her pace as her foot hit the driveway. Her pace had been a rigorous one, a way to break the lack of exercise necessitated during her day of traveling, and her face glistened with sweat from the exertion of her tough run. She had gone much farther than she had originally intended. Without an odometer, she accurately guessed she had run close to five miles, if not a little farther. Breathing in and out, intentionally working out the best way to regulate and keep her breathing under control, she walked at a brisk pace up the driveway.

With her heart rate returning to normal, she reached the neat and tidy lawn and swiped a hand over her forehead, absently brushing aside the beads of sweat that had gathered during her morning run. Shading her eyes against the advent of the bright morning sun peeking through a trio of clouds above, she swung her gaze towards the house and sighed. Her father's car was gone which meant she had missed him. He already had driven into work. Some happiness dimmed before she buoyed herself up. After all, she was home. Nothing much else was needed to make her happy. Grinning, she let herself in through the small gate of the picket fence and made her way towards the house, excited about spending her first morning home.

"Hey, Moms! I'm back from my run," she yelled out joyfully from the front door, her voice echoing through the rooms that were much too silent for a Belden family morning. The silence slapped her in the face, reminded her that she was the only 'child' in residence. It was hard coming to terms knowing that two of her brothers had homes of their own now while the youngest one spent more time at his college dorm than he did at the old homestead. Escaping the ghosts of yesterday, she bounded towards the kitchen and offered loudly from the doorway, "Can I help, Moms?"

Helen smothered a delighted grin. Her daughter had never lost her irrepressible habits of slamming doors, yelling, or galloping throughout the house. It warmed her heart to know that Trixie hadn't changed overly much as she had grown into an adult. She only wished that Trixie would open up more about her life in California. She wiped her hands on a bright yellow dishtowel and went back to watching the last pancakes on the griddle with an eagle eye. "No, Trixie. Wash your hands and then have a seat. I'm nearly finished."

A few minutes ago she wouldn't have thought that she would have wanted to eat. Now the delicious aromas permeating the kitchen proved her wrong. Her stomach rumbled with the promise of pancakes and sausage. In all of the places she had eaten, she had never found anyone who could make as delicious of a meal as her mother. She wasn't certain if it was her mother's skill or presence. Either way, it didn't matter. It was simply the magic of her mother. Feeling light and carefree, Trixie washed her hands at the kitchen sink and slid into her normal seat at the table, exactly as she had done countless times in the past. "Now this is the way to come back from a run," she declared with an appreciative sniff.

Helen expertly lifted the last pancake and placed it on the serving platter. Only six pancakes filled it out. A pitiful amount when she remembered the mountains upon mountains of pancakes she used to make for her children and their friends. Laying the spatula down, she ignored the melancholic thoughts. "You really surprised me, Trixie. I can't believe that you were the first one up and about this morning. It seems to me that I remember having an awful time waking you up in the mornings when you had to get ready for school," she chided her gently.

"There's a reason for that. I didn't like school," Trixie replied easily. Always a bottomless pit of energy, she shot out of her seat and headed over toward the refrigerator. Finding a bottle of water, she uncapped it and had downed nearly half the bottle before she added, "That's why I didn't like getting up, Moms."

"And you like running that much more?" Helen questioned in disbelief.

Trixie answered with a non-committal shrug of her shoulders. Exercise was something she was required to do. She had to stay in the best shape possible for her job. She couldn't afford to slip, even a little. Slacking was simply not an option. It had been drummed into her the second she had started her training. Her body was as important as her mind, sometimes even more so, as a few of her more physically-demanding assignments had attested to. Intentionally dropping the subject, she re-asked, "Are you certain I can't help you?"

Helen gave a negative shake of her head and pointed to the table. "Sit back down, Trix. Rest. I'm nearly ready."

An obedient daughter, Trixie retook her spot and finished her water. She stared around the empty table and then sighed, almost a little wistfully. "It's not quite the same, is it, Moms?"

"It never is when you grow up," Helen remarked with an understanding look. She despised having an empty table. It looked like Trixie felt the same way.

Trixie folded her napkin and placed it on her lap, exactly as she had been taught to do from the time she was two and deemed old enough to sit in a regular chair and not the old booster seat anymore, and said slowly, her voice taking on a far-away quality, "It's kind of funny, really. I can remember all those meals when Mart would poke fun at me or say something just to irritate me or make me get mad. Of course, he almost always got what he wanted. It doesn't seem right, not having him here right now. It seems even odder to think that he has his own house, with his own wife, just a little way down the road."

"Things change, Trixie," Helen explained, the two simple words saying it all. She slipped into her seat and laid the subject to rest as neatly as she put her napkin over her lap. Cheerfully, she announced, "Your father had an early meeting so he's already gone. He didn't even take the time to eat a pancake. He grabbed a sausage, gulped down his first cup of coffee, and headed out the door. That means it's just you and me this morning, sweetheart."

The pancakes were golden brown and perfect, not that Trixie had expected anything less. She transferred two from the serving plate and started to cut them up. "I can't remember the last time I had such a good breakfast," she noted, thinking with an inner grin that she was going to have to run every morning and possibly in the afternoon if she didn't want to gain any weight while she was home. Her eyes closed in deep appreciation after her first bite. "Just like I remember. Absolutely delicious."

"Thanks, dear." Nothing pleased her more than a sincere compliment from one of her children. Beaming, she started filling her own plate. "What are you plans for today?"

She stared down ruefully at her clothes. Sweat had left stains on her T-shirt. Her hair felt limp. The sweat itself had dried but she could still feel it on her skin. Showering was next on the agenda. "I'll have to get cleaned up after breakfast. Then I'm meeting Honey and Di up at the Manor House," Trixie replied. "I'm not certain what Honey wants us to do but I think she needs some help with the wedding stuff." She was determined to enjoy it even if it killed her. The thought of sitting for hours on end discussing the final, minute details of the wedding or, even worse, of actually making the necessary decorations for the wedding, wasn't even close to her definition of fun but spending uninterrupted time with her two best friends certainly made up for it.

"That's what I thought. I'm meeting Madeleine and Miss Trask up there, too," Helen shared, in case Trixie wasn't aware of it. "We are having our own little pow-wow, too. I understand from Madeleine that the seating chart is driving Honey to distraction. She finally laid it in her mother's more than capable hands." She gave a little laugh, grateful that their side of the family weren't the ones causing any of the issues.

"Honey mentioned that to us last night. Brian looked like he was in agony when she brought it up. He's obviously heard about it a few times over the past month." Trixie chuckled at the memory. She took a sip of coffee from the cup her mother automatically poured out for her, amazed that her mother had remembered that she had acquired the taste of coffee during her years away. The only thing she had found to beat the jolt of caffeine was the rush of adrenaline that accompanied her missions. "I've never been able to find a place in this world that can make coffee as well as you can, either," she murmured in admiration.

"And you've been to more places than you've ever told us about," Helen noted with her own smile. She understood her daughter well, had seen many of the secrets hiding behind the shadows of her eyes even if she didn't understand them. She had never pushed but she couldn't quell her curiosity. Her pretty blue eyes revealed her interest but she respected Trixie's need for privacy and didn't press her.

Trixie put the cup down with a small clink. "True," she affirmed before adding with a helpless sort of a chuckle, "but I'm not allowed to talk about it, Moms. There is that little thing called confidentiality, you know." She had hidden behind it well for the past four years, using it as a soft, well-worn, and impenetrable cover. Amazingly enough, every single person in their neck of Sleepyside bought her answer and had never asked for more. Hinted, for sure. Been curious, definitely. But no one had ever demanded more.

"We all know that, dear." Helen bit down on the urge to prod for more, desperately missing those long-ago days when Trixie would practically burst with information about her cases and spill all before the first course had even been served. Those days were long ago and in the past. She couldn't recall the last time her daughter had shared any information with any of them about any of her cases. Somehow, it didn't seem right. With her graceful tact, Helen artfully changed the subject. "Well, we'll leave that behind us. Can you give me a ride up to the Manor House when we're ready to go? I'd like to see how that rental of yours rides, you know."

Immensely relieved to have the subject shelved, Trixie giggled. Her face lit up with its normal jaunty charm. "Of course. You could drive it there if you want. In fact, you could drive it anywhere you wanted to." She hooked a thumb towards the row of hooks where her car keys dangling, practically begging to be used. "I probably won't need the car too much. I think Honey will be keeping me pretty busy. She told me before I left last night to be prepared to spend a lot of time at the Manor House." Her smile never faltered although she had heard the unhidden warning beyond Honey's words. A lot of time at Manor House meant more than simply spending time with her best friend. It meant being in the same house as Jim, most likely running into Jim, and, even worse, having to talk to Jim. She didn't shiver but it was a close thing.

"She's very excited about the wedding," Helen murmured quietly. She sipped daintily from her preferred cup of tea and considered her daughter over the rim. Deciding that now was as good of a time as any, she put the cup down and folded her hands neatly in her lap. If she gripped her hands tighter than usual, she didn't admit it. For all intense purposes, she looked poised and serene. Inside, she was far from it.

"It's all she's been able to talk about. I feel bad I haven't been able to help out as much as I should have been able to, if you know what I mean." Trixie gave a helpless sort of giggle and spread her hands out in front of her. Her pony tail bounced as she shook her head. Absently, she reached up and pulled out the black band that held her mass of chaotic curls together. They fell down, curtaining her face, and she brushed them back impatiently.

"I think it's wonderful that you made time to help Honey out this week. She's going to be very stressed and will certainly need you to help keep her grounded or from going crazy with the pressure." Helen swallowed air. Her voice changed, sounding more like a mother than a cherished friend. "But there is something else that you need to do, Trixie, for both Honey, Brian and maybe even yourself."

Fork suspended in the air, she caught the change immediately. It clattered to her plate, the small bit of pancake and syrup forgotten. Trixie sat up, shoulders straight, head erect, and eyed her mother warily. She pinned a feigned smile to her face. "What's that, Moms?" she asked quietly although she had a dreadful feeling about what her mother was steeling herself to bring up; the most difficult subject in the world for her. Picking up her coffee, she took a sip she didn't want and waited.

Mentally prepared, inwardly apologizing, Helen set aside her mug with a decided snap. She wrapped a hand around it, needing the warmth of the liquid. "Now it's time for me to bring up something you may find a little…unpleasant, Trixie. But it needs to be said. I'm not certain if Brian or Honey feel comfortable enough to discuss it with you. I'm not even certain if I feel comfortable enough discussing it with you but I thought I might take a chance and tackle it myself. It will only make things a little easier all around," she added quietly.

Tilting her head to the side, she copied her mother and put down her drink. It was coming, of that she had no doubt, and it was going to be unpleasant in the extreme, for both of them. Swallowing a sigh, wishing she had decided to run to the next town over instead of turning back around when she did, she grabbed the figurative bull by the horns and invited her mother to open it up with a stoic tone, "What is it, Moms?"

"I want you to know that I haven't discussed this with either Brian or Honey. They, in turn, haven't talked about it to me. I'm going by a feeling here, though. Knowing my future daughter-in-law the way that I do, I wouldn't be at all surprised if Honey has already talked about the issue with Jim and is planning on discussing it with you at length, too," Helen began, her words coming out slowly and stilted while uncertainty plagued her. Under the table, she folded and refolded her napkin. Above the table, her face remained compassionate yet strong and unwavering. She wasn't going to be deterred, no matter how uncomfortable the subject.

Trixie wilted a little. She hated to do it but her defenses went up, her smile slid off her face, her dimples winked out, and the sparkle evaporated from her eyes. She merely sat, impassive. "I see," she murmured non-commitedly. Having no appetite whatsoever any longer, she pushed her plate away and concentrated on folding her napkin like it was the most important act in the world, unknowingly mirroring her mother's hidden moves under the table.

There was no way to do it but spit it out. Firmly believing in getting it over instead of prolonging the agony, Helen stated plainly, "You are the maid of honor. He is the best man." She reminded Trixie of the facts just in case she had forgotten it them.

"I'm well aware of our joint positions," Trixie mumbled quietly. She toed the floor under the table and refused the urge to roll her eyes, stare up at the ceiling or leave the room in a huff. Instead, she met her mother's stare, dead-on, and nodded her head. No other words were necessary.

Stating the facts, Helen clarified, "It's your brother's and your best friend's wedding. It's also the wedding of Jim's best friend and his sister. It's an interesting correlation when you think of it. And you two have very prominent, very important, and very integral positions in the wedding party. Both of you will be in the spotlight, too."

"Yes." Trixie responded stronger than necessary. Her blue eyes were fast becoming hooded and her face wasn't as expressionless as it had been before. She didn't realize it but she was starting to look stubborn. Trixie couldn't accurately predict the exact location where her mother was heading but she didn't like it.

A tiny smile danced across Helen's unpainted lips. Trixie could be just as headstrong and stubborn as she had been at thirteen. It warmed her mother's heart to know that the young teenager made up a huge part of the composed, quiet woman sitting across the table from her, even if Trixie was showing off a few of her less-than-sterling qualities. Helen leaned forward, her fingers curling over Trixie's, giving strength even as she knew that she was going to hurt her. "Now, here's what I want to talk to you about. You and Jim have done a good job of keeping your personal affairs free from your friends. Neither of you wanted to involve the others in it or take sides on the issue. You are both to be commended for that, you know. Because of that, the Bob-Whites have continued on well enough, even though the two of you barely communicate."

The weight of her mother's grasp felt comforting even as a warm flush of embarrassment began to smear its way across her face. "We're not going to have a knock-down, drag-out fight in the middle of the recessional or begin a screaming match at the country club," Trixie grumbled disconsolately, the lines on her face settling into a frustrated scowl. "No one has to worry about that. We've come a lot farther than that."

"Have you?" Helen questioned so quietly Trixie almost didn't hear her. She doubted it herself, was more than certain of the fact that both Trixie and Jim had covered up their own hurt and anger with their careers and had never truly dealt with it. In her opinion they had barely got out of the starting gate before they had both stalled out. Careers weren't a good substitute for a caring, loving relationship . Trixie would have been astonished to realize that her mother saw more than she allowed her to see. "I'm not concerned about that. No one is. You nor Jim would do anything like that to Honey and Brian. You both love and respect them too much to cause a scene like that." She inclined her head to the side and admitted diffidently, "It's the other I'm afraid of."

Bewildered, Trixie's head shot up. "The other? What other?" Her eyebrows snapped together in pure puzzlement.

Helen sucked in a deep breath, not wanting to hurt Trixie anymore than she already had by bringing up the subject. She couldn't argue with the truth and the facts were staring them straight in the face, with nothing to hide behind. Starting off as simply and easily as she could, she haltingly explained, "You two do not talk, Trix. Ever. In fact, you don't do much of anything together anymore. You and Jim rarely even look at each other and you only do that when you think the other one isn't looking. You certainly haven't attempted to maintain any type of a relationship, either."

Trixie let her mother's words roll over her. She didn't offer a defense, an explanation, or a heated denial. Instead, she sat as still as a marble statue, with her eyes facing forward and her mind trying to block out the truth, and wondered if everyone saw the same thing.

Helen paused for a moment, giving Trixie time to say anything. When she didn't, she gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders and sailed on with as much care as she could, "Jim used to practically live down here. I can't even remember the last time Jim came down to Crabapple Farm to visit us." Her husband was a good detriment. He didn't have any warm and fuzzy feelings for one James Frayne. In fact, Peter hadn't spoken more than a few short, clipped sentences to Jim ever since the summer Trixie had moved away. Stubbornness, it seemed, ran in the family. "And you only go up to the Manor House to visit Honey. You never go up there to see Jim. If you do see him, it's only a coincidence; most likely, it's an inconvenient one on your part."

Trixie's sneakered feet started tapping under the table, a sure sign that she was more nervous and agitated than she wanted to show. She had never been successful at controlling her body. "You're not saying anything new," she noted neutrally, pleased that her voice came out even without the least bit of a tremble to it. "You aren't telling me anything that I don't already know, Moms."

"That's the other," Helen said briskly. She gripped her daughter's hand tighter and squeezed, both for reassurance and in apology. "Listen, Trixie, because this is very important. You have to at least appear to like each other. You have the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, the wedding and the reception where you are going to be on display. Not quite as grandly as Honey and Brian but you and Jim are going to be on stage, too. People are going to sigh over Brian and Honey and then they are going to catch the two of you hanging out in the wings. They will gossip, whether you like it or not. The history will be brought up, people will ponder over it, maybe even be bad-mannered enough to ask you two about it. You can definitely count on someone asking you when it's going to be your turn to get married. There will probably even be someone who will ask if you and Jim are ever going to make up and tie the knot." When Trixie's expression didn't change, she released another small sigh. "I'm not certain if I'm making myself clear or not here. What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to live in each other's pockets or anything like that but…"

"You don't need to finish it. You're coming through loud and clear, Moms. I understand what you're saying," Trixie muttered lowly. She suddenly found the tabletop extremely interesting. She traced a knick made years back, most likely by Mart, and then restated, inwardly wondering how they were going to pull it off with all of the insurmountable problems between them, "We need to be nice to each other."

She wasn't finished yet. "That's not all. You've got to smile. For heavens' sake, Trixie, smile when you're together," Helen almost pleaded, thinking back to Mart and Di's wedding. Trixie and Jim had done exceedingly well at staying out of the other's way. It wasn't going to be possible this time around. "Brian and Honey don't want to look back on their wedding pictures and see the two of you looking like death warmed over or glowering at each other in the wedding photos. It'll also keep the gossip mongers at bay, too. If they see the two of you getting along, whether it's forced or not, they will be much easier on you and Jim. You'll be a mere footnote, hardly worthy of notice, instead of an entire ugly dissertation. "

Every word was well-aimed. It hit its mark, straight through to her heart. It appeared she was going to have a mission after all, potentially the most difficult one she had ever been given. It was even more surprising that the mission had been given to her by her mother. Lifting her eyes, she met Helen's serious face with the same expression on her own. Quietly, feeling much older than her almost twenty-five years of age, Trixie admitted, "I really do understand, Moms. I'll do my best to be nice to Jim. I'll even smile and mean it. I promise."

"There's one more thing." Helen inhaled deeply before the words tumbled out, having no clue how her daughter was going to react to her next advantageous suggestion, "It would be a good idea to talk about this with Jim before the wedding so that you can both be prepared. You should be on the same page. So…"

Trixie dropped back against her seat and blew out a frustrated breath. Her mother's latest request was going to be the most difficult one to keep. "Oh, joy," she mumbled sarcastically, a scowl darkening her face. "You want me to talk about this to Jim."

"It's for the best," Helen insisted strongly, her soft eyes imploring her daughter to see it through.

They hadn't had a real conversation in years. The last few they had together hadn't gone all that well. Even after all these years, the memories were still potent, powerful, and had the ability to hurt. Trixie worried her bottom lip and then released a long, low sigh. "I'll do my best," she finally agreed, closing her eyes tight the second she did. She couldn't picture the best way to invite him into a simple, every-day type of a discussion, let alone hold an entire conversation with him on a subject that was painful in the extreme.

"Good. Let's put it behind us, then, and let's get to work." Considering the matter settled, more than ready to have it finished, Helen stood up and briskly cleared away the dishes, with Trixie as a more than willing helper. Because she had put Trixie on the spot, Helen carried on a long, running conversation full of mundane topics, ones that Trixie didn't have to think to participate in. Before long, the kitchen was back in its sparkling shape and Trixie had left to shower and get freshly dressed. They drove up to the Manor House and were standing together on the front porch, waiting for the door to open so that they could start the next phase of their morning.

"Hello, Helen! And Trixie, too!" Madeleine enthusiastically greeted them, practically the second after Helen pressed the doorbell. Without wasting a minute, she grabbed their hands and pulled them into the main hall of the large house. In her excitement, the words overflowed from her mouth, moving as swiftly as her daughter's did when she was excited or nervous, "You're right on time, Helen! Marjory got here a few minutes ago. She's setting up the information that we need in the formal living room right now. That's where we will meet today. Celia has also set up a divine assortment of delicacies and tea to get us fortified through the day." She tucked back a strand of hair that had dared to escape her elegant French twist. "Unfortunately, we're going to need it."

Without waiting for Helen to respond, hardly pausing for breath, Madeleine turned to Trixie next. Her hazel eyes, so like her daughter's, warmed while thoughts swirled through her mind. It bothered her to not know what had transpired between her son and the lovely young woman standing in front of her. Although Matt had cautioned her not to get her hopes up, she was more than hoping that the fact that the two of them would constantly be thrown together due to their prominent positions would help them come to some kind of an understanding. If she had her way, it was the kind of understanding that would result in another wedding, hopefully in the not-too-distant future. Matt had snorted at her when she had brought up her wish. Shaking away the thought, she touched Trixie's forearm and said gently, "Trixie, Honey is waiting on you and Di. I think she wants to meet with you two in her room."

"Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler. I'll head up there right now." Trixie returned the warm smile with one of her own. She had never been able to figure out why both Jim's parents had always treated her the same way. The Wheelers had never acted cold or different towards her. In fact, the only parent who seemed to have held any kind of a grudge was her father. He hadn't let it go. Jim was still extremely low on his list, residing minimally above Mr. Lytell, even after all the years had passed between them. She hadn't known that her father had it in him.

"Good. Di hasn't made it here yet and Jim's working in his father's den this morning. He's planning on meeting Dan for a ride later on today, too. That means Honey's been all alone for the better part of the morning." Madeleine threw in the information about Jim with an expert casualness, hoping to set Trixie at ease with the knowledge of Jim's whereabouts.

It worked. Trixie breathed out an unconscious sigh of relief that she wouldn't run into him on the way up to Honey's room. Her body became more relaxed. The look she gave Madeleine was full of gratitude. "I'll, um…I'll go see Honey now. Have fun."

Madeleine laughed a small little musical laugh. "Fun? I don't think so," she murmured to Helen, shaking her head. It was her goal to finish out that damn seating chart today if it killed her. She threaded her arm through Helen's. "Come on, Helen. Let me lead you to our 'fun'."

Trixie watched the mothers meander into the formal living room, their heads close together, and both chattering away a mile a minute. With a bounce to her step, she started up the staircase. Thanks to Madeleine, she was secure in the knowledge that Jim wasn't on the second floor. Unless he suddenly decided to drop out of the wedding party or move back to the city, both very improbable and unlikely possibilities, she would see him again. It was unavoidable. But it gave her rather shaky heart a bit of a reprieve to know the coast was clear for the moment. Humming lightly under her breath, she made it to Honey's room and rapped briskly on the half-opened door. "Honey? Are you here?"

"Oh, Trix. It's you. Come on in!" came the muffled reply.

Trixie pushed aside the door, peered inside and felt her mouth hit the carpeted floor. The normally immaculate room was covered in countless empty boxes, rolls of bubble-wrap, and stacks of newspaper. Packaging tape, permanent markers, clothes and hangers littered the bed. Shoes were strewn across the floor…and not with their matching mate. It was the most disheveled she had ever seen the room. "Honey?" she asked tentatively, cautiously making her way past a stack of boxes. She put out a hand to stop them from toppling over.

Honey lifted her head from the side of her bed. "Got it!" she called out triumphantly and waved the permanent marker through the air like it was a flag from a conquering army. Then she pushed her hair out of her face, got to her feet and declared, a wild look to her eyes, "Thank goodness you're here, Trix. I got a little crazy this morning. I think I really need some help."

"Help," Trixie repeated and stared at the room. It was a shambles and looked nothing like the neat, orderly room she knew it to be. Instead, it closely resembled a disaster area. Reaching down, she picked up a stray piece of bubble-wrap, stared at it a moment, and then questioned, her eyebrows lifted high, "What…what are we doing today?"

"Isn't it obvious? You and Di are helping me pack!" Pleased with herself, Honey tossed the marker to Trixie and laughed when her friend caught it. "I'm leaving the details to our mothers and Miss Trask today. We're taking care of another important piece instead. We've got to get my room boxed up, labeled, and packed so that it can be moved over to the new house as soon as possible. It's going to be my new home soon, you know," she added with a broad wink.

It sounded a lot better than what Trixie had envisioned for the day. Packing was much more interesting than discussing wedding plans or, even worse, making frilly, jaunty, fancy things for the wedding. Someone, either Di or Honey, had mentioned making bows for the aisle the night before. She gave an involuntary shudder. Not her preferred way of spending the day. Feeling lighter and immensely cheered, Trixie picked up an empty box and carried it over to Honey. "What have you done so far?"

"Nothing much, I'm afraid. I've made an excellent mess," Honey answered cheerfully. She flopped back onto the one small section of her bed not covered in articles of clothing and declared with a joyous laugh that bordered on the insane, "I'm not the best when it comes to organizing things. I put all of the boxes together and laid out all of the necessary equipment. I also started emptying my dresser until I realized that may not have been the smartest idea so I decided waiting for you and Di to arrive would be better. I figure one of you has to be better at organizing than I am!"

"Di," Trixie shot back merrily, catching the mood perfectly. She landed next to Honey, pushed aside a lovely sweater in a soft azure, and chuckled. "I don't stuff things into my closet like I used to but that's about the closest I've come to being neat or organized."

"That's exactly what I thought." A wide grin spread across her face. Honey swung her feet and stared at her room, amazed that she could feel so optimistic with it being in its current state of distress. She was marrying the most perfectly perfect man in the entire world in a few days, plus she was preparing to move her belongings into the house that she was going to share with him. What could be better than that? Fingering a black silk camisole, she inquired, "What have you been up to today?"

"Not too much." Trixie snapped and unsnapped the marker. "I woke up early and went for a run. Then I had breakfast with my mother. It was a little quiet down there without any of my brothers around. I also missed my father before he went into work since I was out on my run."

"Wait a minute. I can't get beyond what you first said. You got up early? To go running?" Honey gave an exaggerated shudder of acute distaste. "This morning?" she added in vivid disbelief. "Why?"

Trixie rolled her eyes when her friend shivered again. She dropped the marker and defended herself, "It's not that bad, Honey. I run on the beach any time I get the chance when I'm not working."

"Thank goodness it's you and not me. Running in the morning…worse, getting up early to go running in the morning. What has happened to you, Trixie Belden?" A light, lilting laugh came out of her mouth.

Shrugging, she let it roll off of her and ignored the question. Adeptly changing the subject, she put an elbow on the mountain of clothes and leaned forward. "Tell me about your house, Honey. What does it look like?"

"It's only been finished for a few weeks," Honey began, running her fingers along the smoothness of the camisole and staring off dreamily into the distance. The house took form right before her eyes. It was everything she dreamed of in a home. She had been the one to insist that they spend their very first night as a married couple in their house. "Brian moved in about three weeks ago, the lucky duck. I'm stuck waiting until the night of our wedding." She gave a loud, exasperated sigh. Even with all the work that was remaining to be finished, she couldn't wait until she could move in, too.

"It'll be here before you know it," Trixie assured her. Feeling the presence of another, she glanced up in time to see the next member standing on the threshold of the doorway. "Hey, Di!" she sang out and gestured towards the room. "Honey's going to keep us very busy today."

Di gingerly stepped over a box. She picked up a pack of newspaper and arched a well-defined eyebrow. Her face matched her voice: completely bland. "New decorator, Miss Wheeler? You must tell me who it is."

The combination of Di's dry tone and her deceptively innocent look sent Honey off into another round of delighted, uncontrollable giggles. They bubbled up and out, without any chance of calming them. "No, no," she managed to get out after a few minutes, swiping a hand underneath the happy tears trickling out from her eyes. "It's not that. Really. We're packing me up today. At least, most of my things," she amended quickly.

Not quite as enthusiastic as Trixie about packing instead of planning, Di became deadly serious. Frowning, she surveyed the chaos. Her mind began working frantically, started to think of the best way to tackle the mess. "It's obvious you need some direction, Honey," she stated dryly. "And some serious organization."

"You bet," Honey sang out gleefully, not offended in the least, and nudged Trixie with her elbow. She suppressed another chuckle and, because the task was so daunting and she didn't want to scare away any potential help, she turned big, pleading eyes towards Diana. "Trixie and I were just saying that you would be perfect for the role."

"I'm not Brian," Di informed her immediately, just in case she didn't realize it. "Batting your eyes at me won't make a difference."

Honey paused, having planned to do just that. Since that road was blocked, she called up her next tactic: flattery. "You are so good at organizing, Di. You know you are. Why, you had your own house unpacked and ready to live in in only a single weekend. Why, I simply know that if you were to accept this job, we would have it finished by lunchtime! Maybe. I'm not that optimistic about that. Why…"

"That's enough why's, Honey Wheeler," Di broke in, her pretty face lighting up with unexpressed humor.

Trixie watched the two, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. It was at times like this when she realized how much she missed out on, living so far away from them. Life didn't stand still even though Sleepyside was no longer her permanent address. It sent a small pang of regret through her, as it always did when she was confronted with what she was missing. As much as she enjoyed spending down time with her friends from the agency, especially Jocelyn and Heidi, they could never take the place of her best friends and sisters, both of her heart and now through her brothers. "You'll have to excuse Honey, Di. She's always been pretty good at pulling out the why's when it's needed," she said, thinking back to the time when Regan had chided her for using way too many of them in a single conversation.

"It's definitely needed now," Honey declared staunchly. Her good humor faded a little when she took in the current state of her room. She closed her eyes to block out the wreckage. "I really don't think I could live in this mess for an entire week, Di. You've got to take charge. It's a matter of my sanity."

"I've got to be crazy. It's the only logical explanation," Di grumbled, staring up at the ceiling with a dramatic sigh as if the heavens could open up and deliver her from the job in front of him. When they didn't, she cocked a slim hip and hid a shiver at the thought of the amount of items that needed to be packed up. It was going to be quite a feat. Rolling up the sleeves of her multi-colored thin sweater, she proclaimed, "Well, let's get to it, girls. We've got a lot of work to do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Seven

A plain manila folder. Nothing too imposing. Definitely nothing too impressive and yet he couldn't have been happier about the contents inside it. Flipping it open, he stared down at the plans, pleased with his final decision. After a few months of debating, it was all ready to go. Now all he had to do was get his ducks in a row and allow it to begin. As his contractor had recently told him, that was going to be one of the most difficult parts. It was a good thing that he had an entire week in Sleepyside to start working on it. He hoped to have it completed before he went back into the city next week. "It's on to phase two," he said quietly, replacing the telephone back on its base with a flourish. With lips curving, he slid back in the comfortable computer chair and steepled his hands under his chin, excited about his new project.

Matthew Wheeler chose that moment to entire his den. He did a double-take, surprised to see someone else taking up residence behind his massive desk. Said person also looked mighty relaxed about it, too. Comically, he did an about-face, poked his head back out into the hallway, glanced back into the den, and then declared in voice full of sham surprise, "Yeah. I didn't make a wrong turn. This is the right room. I am in my den." He tapped a finger against his chin and mused aloud, "I wonder what is wrong with this picture."

Jim tossed his lopsided grin his father's way. Refusing to be embarrassed, knowing his father was only jesting with him and didn't care that he had hijacked the large desk, he stayed in the chair and even rocked back further. He knew better than to rest his booted feet on top of the desk, though. He doubted his father would appreciate that gesture and would most likely boot him out of the chair if he decided to try it. "Hey, Dad. Thanks for letting me use your den. I was finishing up some business."

"I can see that," he answered dryly, totally tongue-in-cheek. He sauntered into the room and pointed at one of the dark green leather chairs sitting in front of the large desk. With only a hint of sarcasm, he inquired, eyes big and face bland, "I almost hesitate to ask but do you mind if I have a seat?"

Getting into the spirit, Jim stayed right where he was and invited him to sit down with his hands. "Please do. Be my guest, Dad," he replied playfully and chuckled lowly when his father took a seat opposite him.

Matt shook his head on the way down. There weren't many people he would willingly give up his desk to. Jim was one of the chosen few. If he had his way, Jim would be taking up more than just this desk in a few years. He hated to admit it but retirement was calling him, even more so than it had when he had first talked to Jim about his proposition. He studied his son shrewdly before letting the opportunity to discuss taking over W&H, International slide by. They had enough to take care of at the moment. He gestured curiously towards the folder in front of Jim. "What were you up to this morning? I know for a fact that those papers don't have anything to do with the business. The office is under strict orders not to contact us unless there is some god-awful emergency at the office that absolutely needs our attention."

"You're right. It's not about work. My contractor and I are finally in business together," Jim explained proudly. Carefully, he opened up the folder and passed the floor plans across the wide expanse of the gleaming cherry desk, curious about how his father would react. "I finally settled on the type of house I want to build."

Intrigued, Matthew leaned forward and accepted the plans. Although he knew Jim had been kicking around the idea for a while now to build his own home on Ten Acres, he was a bit surprised that he was finally going to start the project. Jim had never seemed in a hurry to begin the process. Extremely curious to see what his son had decided on, he kept one eye on the plans and the other on Jim, studying him circumspectly. He didn't open the folder right away. "You've thrown out a few different styles over the years. What one finally won out?"

"The log cabin," Jim answered with a small chuckle. It was the one house out of the different designs he had picked that kept calling back to him. It seemed to be a good fit. Was it the right choice? In his heart of hearts, he knew it was not the best choice for him. It was merely second best. The only truly correct home would be a two-story farmhouse, with a wide porch and painted the color of a pretty blue but he didn't have any belief that that particular house would ever come into being. It wasn't so much the house he was missing out on. It was the woman he had planned to share it with. He didn't share the truth with his dad, settled for a small shrug instead, and concentrated on the log cabin. "It seemed the most appropriate."

"It'll look good sitting on Ten Acres," Matt replied. With narrowed eyes, he studied the floor plan and then the photograph of a completed model that Jim handed over to him. Silently, he considered the plans, brought the picture to life in his mind, and nodded approvingly. It would certainly do. He was right. It would look great on Ten Acres. Always the business man, he inquired, wanting to know more, "Are you able to make special modifications?"

"We have a meeting next week to put the finishing touches on the contract, sign it, put down the down payment…you know, all that sort of stuff. I also have a long list of the permits that I need to get in order before we can start building." He tapped the notepad that was filled to overflowing with notes he had taken on it in his neat, precise handwriting. Thinking about the permits, he muttered under his breath, not having any desire to start applying for them or dealing with the bureaucracy, "I think I'll tackle that one tomorrow." He prayed that it went smoothly.

There wasn't anything quite like building. The headaches that went with it were monstrous. Matt gave an involuntary shudder while he sympathized for Jim. He had experienced it all in his career as a CEO of a major business. It didn't matter on what scale; building was tough. It wasn't always easy. It certainly wasn't pretty. But the problems, worries and stress caused by the process were worth it once you saw the completed structure. He knew Jim would understand that exact feeling the second he saw his home resting on Ten Acres. "You certain you don't want to put up another mansion on that spot?" he wondered jokingly, remembering the old dilapidated mansion that had once sat on top of the hill.

Jim chuckled again, stood up from the chair and thoughtfully rolled it back to its spot at the desk. "No. No mansion. That's not exactly my style, is it?" He walked towards the window and brushed aside the forest green curtain. There were lots of trees and leaves standing in his way, obscuring his view, but he stared in the direction of Ten Acres, finding it hard to believe that his house would soon be residing there; barring any potential problems, of course. It would be odd not to call the Manor House his home anymore but he was more than ready for his own place in Sleepyside. Change was definitely a part of their lives. Honey would be getting married on the weekend and moving into her own home. It was time for him to make a change, too.

Matt joined him. Having a pretty good idea where Jim was looking, he also stared towards Ten Acres. Inwardly, he thought that it was absolutely terrible for a parent to have two children leaving the nest at roughly the same time. First Honey would be deserting the house, and, knowing Jim the way that he did, it wouldn't be long before he was gone. Manor House was going to be awfully quiet, he mused to himself, not looking forward to it in the least. He suddenly had a much stronger understanding about Peter Belden, who had spent the past few years complaining about how quiet his house in the hollow was. Then he shook away the melancholy. He'd simply have to start insisting on grandchildren as soon as possible. Immensely cheered, good feelings restored, he returned to the subject of building. He cautioned Jim, "It can be very difficult to predict the schedule. There can be all kinds of delays and unforeseen issues when it comes to building your own home. With that in mind, do you have any idea on the time frame for your house?"

"September 15," Jim shot back swiftly, mentally reviewing the date he had requested. His first choice had been July but his contractor had actually laughed at the suggestion. His second suggestion of August had been met with a dry chuckle. When he had suggested September, the contractor had mentioned that it could be tight but he believed it could be done. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed on that one. If it gets done on time, or before time, I'm going to add in a hefty bonus for the company." He had worked long enough beside his father to know that sometimes a little extra incentive helped further things along. "We're going to put it in the contract. I'll sign it at our meeting next week."

"Atta boy." Pleased, Matt clapped him on the back. There was never any harm in smoothing things along. He wouldn't be at all surprised if the house was up and finished by the end of August instead of September. As long as Jim didn't change his mind or want something different, he believed it to be an extremely strong possibility. Wanting to know more about the position of the home in his life, he wondered aloud, "How do you see your house? Will it be your new home base or merely a place to visit when you're back in Sleepyside?"

"We'll see how it goes. I'm not certain yet." Jim let the curtain fall back, stepped back, and admitted quietly, "It's not horrible living in the city. It's convenient. It's close to work. Anything I could possible want to do is available at a moment's notice. Ball games, the theater, restaurants. I've lived there for a long time, too. It's just…" He faltered, uncertain how to finish his thoughts.

"Living in a city," his father finished for him, understanding perfectly. He had the same feelings himself. "I hear you. It's not always my favorite place to live, either. City living gets to me, too. There's no substitute for the woods, the horses, the fresh air and the freedom out here, is there? That's one of the reasons why I'm glad I have this place to come to when I need to. It helps me."

"I think that's how my house on Ten Acres will make me feel," Jim agreed immediately. Living in the city was necessary since his job was at the main corporate office. However, he was hoping to start spending more time in Sleepyside, less time in the city, once his house was finished. He imagined he could flex some time here and there, work from home a day or two, that sort of thing. He needed a break from the hustle and bustle, the crowds, the traffic and the people. Really, he needed home. As much as he enjoyed his job and found it challenging if not exactly the most rewarding career imaginable, he couldn't overlook the fact that he was, at heart, a person who thrived on the outdoors. Being cooped up in an office during the day and exchanging it for his apartment during the night was starting to wear on him. Grateful to have the freedom of space for the next week, he regulated it to the background and inquired, "What brings you to your den this morning? Do you have anything to do?"

"I promised Madeleine I wouldn't get caught up in the business this week at all. It's all about Honey and the wedding." His eyes started gleaming and he gave a great big broad wink. "But that doesn't mean I can't check my email to find out how things are going. If I should need to reply to one or call in to my personal assistant to see how things are going…well, your mother won't begrudge me that, will she?" He rocked back on his heels, trying not to smile too complacently.

Jim grinned back in reply. His mother would more than begrudge him if she knew about it. Judging from the devious look on his father's face, it was obvious that he wouldn't be telling her if he did. He wouldn't rat his father out, either. "Understood," he proclaimed, setting his father's mind at rest.

Matt nodded in acknowledgement. He stretched his arms out wide and said, "I have to admit that it will be nice to have the week off from work, though. It's a good test for me. I'll be able to find out how things run without me. Then, unfortunately, it's back to the old grindstone next week." And whatever mess he needed to clean up. From past experience, he knew that there were going to be at the very least a few of them. He merely hoped that they weren't huge, disastrous, or downright awful.

"Tell me about it," Jim said with a sigh. Then he put it behind him. A full week in Sleepyside couldn't have come at a better time. He pointed towards the stables. Susie and Lady were quietly munching on brand new fresh green grass in the paddock. Spring was definitely here. He couldn't see the other horses; imagined they were grazing on the other side of the barn. "Dan's supposed to get in touch with me when he wakes up. We're going for a ride together as soon as he's up and about."

"Good for Dan. He must be catching up on some much-needed sleep," Matt mused, scratched his chin and contemplated the information Jim had offered him. Never a dumb one, he thought back to Jim's morning. He had been spent the entire morning locked up in his den, with plans to ride with Dan. He glanced up at the ceiling, thought about the young woman upstairs, and didn't know if he should laugh, make a joke, or clock Jim on the head. It was apparent, almost painfully so, to figure out what his son was doing and why. Needing some more information, he inquired casually, "You haven't left my desk all morning, have you?"

Jim tilted his head back, slightly taken aback by the question, and frowned. It had come out of left field and sounded very odd. "I ate breakfast with Mom and Honey. I also took a coffee break earlier but that was about it." He picked up his nearly empty mug and drained the last of its contents, only grimacing slightly at the fact that the coffee had gone lukewarm and didn't taste nearly as fresh as it had an hour earlier. "Why?"

"No reason." Matt shrugged a muscled shoulder and chortled inwardly when Jim visibly relaxed. Changing tactics, not willing to let Jim off the hook, he shared conversationally, "I drove to Mr. Lynch's store today in order to get my first cup of coffee. Bright and early, I might add. It was one of the best pieces of good fortune to have Mr. Lynch take over that store. Have you ever tried their coffee? It's heavenly."

"Yeah. I have." Their coffee was the farthest thing from his mind. Jim's face took on a distant, dark look. He ducked his head to hide it. It never was easy to have a reminder of that long ago summer day, the one that had served as such a catalyst for a rift in a relationship that had been as vital to him as breathing. A tiny, mocking voice reminded him insistently that it was still important to him; he was only too stubborn to admit it. "They have good coffee," he replied shortly, his eyebrows drawing together and a scowl settling across his handsome face.

In order to hide his sudden wayward smile, Matt turned again to stare out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jim giving the floor quite the death glare. The gleam in his eyes turned cunning. Continuing on easily, he shared, "It was pretty early. Not sunrise early but still on the early side. You, Honey and Madeleine were probably just waking up when I took my first sip of that amazing coffee. Oh, and it was perfectly brewed, too," he shared, sighing in appreciation as he remembered the delicious hot beverage. "Anyway, I'm digressing here. As I was driving back from the store, I happened to pass something unexpected. Do you know what I saw?" He posed the question innocently, waiting just the right amount of time for Jim to take the bait.

Hooked, Jim shook his head, not having the slightest clue where his father was headed with this newest topic of conversation. Idly, he answered without too much interest, "Maybe a deer? They are becoming very bold right now."

"No. Not wildlife." Matt wished he had someone around to help him draw it out dramatically. Had she been there, Honey would have helped. Since she was not, he paused momentarily before announcing in a loud, leading tone that gave away more than his spoken words, "I saw a runner. Doing a pretty good clip, too. She seriously impressed me. Looked pretty intense. I don't think she saw me. She seemed to be much too concerned about her pace or her thoughts than about the passing scenery." Trixie hadn't even glanced in the direction of his vehicle. She had looked straight ahead and had pounded past him.

Jim's hand paused on its way to his head. He forced it to continue on where he ran it over his hair. He didn't need his father to say anything else. The identity of the runner was crystal clear. "That's…good," he said for lack of a better word while he slowly digested the information. His gaze involuntarily slid to the ceiling. The runner was upstairs, hanging out with his sister, only a few yards away from his very own room. And it was only going to get worse as the week went on. She was going to be around a lot, practically under his feet. He couldn't possibly avoid her every day. If that wasn't bad enough, there were going to be many Bob-White functions over the week, too. He couldn't miss out on them; neither could she. A double whammy. A testament to his strength of spirit, he didn't sigh or pound something, like his head against the wall. The desire to do that was there but he didn't give in to the childish impulse.

"Trixie is a solid runner." Matt watched Jim closely, was impressed when his son didn't flinch at the sound of her name. He understood Jim well and appreciated the iron control he was exuding. It was going to be an interesting week, he thought inwardly. He hoped that both Jim and Trixie were up for it. Posing a wondering aloud, he asked, "I wonder if she's run in any races. She's certainly good enough to win them."

"I wouldn't know," Jim answered stoically, feeling stupid and unable to come up with anything else to say. He didn't know much about her anymore, certainly not that she was devoted to exercise. His days of knowing her innermost thoughts and favorite activities were long gone, without much chance of being resurrected.

Enough was enough. Since he wasn't getting any other response besides short, clipped words and a stoic, impenetrable front, Matt decided to go on the attack. His question was simple in the extreme but loaded with the force of a semi-automatic weapon. Tipping his chin back, staring down his nose at Jim, he questioned, "So, you've got to tell me. How does it feel?"

Nothing else. Jim didn't need any other words. Breathing out a loud expulsion of breath, he found it just delightful that he should be surprised that his father was now bringing up the subject that always plagued him. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he answered in a low tone, not needing any other clarification but attempting to sidestep the unwelcome and unnecessary probe, "Not bad, I guess. We're pretty used to seeing each other, Dad. After all, we've known each other for almost twelve years now." He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's not what I'm asking. Let's try it again," Matt retorted, not allowing his son to use sarcasm as a shield. He clapped Jim on the back and went for a clarification that his son couldn't overlook or misinterpret, "Were you okay with seeing Trixie again last night?"

"I'm fine with it," Jim answered, placing a hand on a lean hip. He had to remind himself that everyone who was bringing up the subject had not only his best interests at heart, but also Trixie's. It was just his terrible luck that it was still such a painful one. Trailing a finger along the polished edge of the windowsill, he insisted, "It's gotten easier over the years."

He had never thought his son was a liar. Staring at the bent head, Matt had to admit that even Jim would do it, if it meant protecting himself. Deciding to let him get away with it, to not call him on it, Matt nodded curtly, speaking more jovially than normal. "Well, that's good, then. You won't mind seeing her practically every day this week. You definitely won't mind walking down the aisle with her on Saturday or standing next to her for the millions upon millions upon millions of pictures that your mother has planned for the photographer, either. There's also the wedding party dance. I'm certain you won't mind partnering her for that, especially with all of our two hundred-plus guests watching you."

It took an effort. A huge effort. A Herculean effort. Jim managed to keep his poker-face. Honey had already drilled it into him the night before. Only the briefest flicker in his eyes gave away his true feelings. "I won't mind it at all," he bit out, not quite as civilly or casually as he would have liked, and not fooling his father for one single second. Even worse for his equilibrium, he knew it, too. A string of inventive curses ran through his mind while the second round of thoughtful yet unnecessary prodding began. His father was the last one he had expected to jump on the wagon.

"I can see that," Matt retorted, sarcasm dripping from his mouth. He couldn't help it. He grinned, chuckled at his son, and laid a heavy hand on Jim's shoulder.

The insistent tones of his cell phone reverberated throughout the room, announcing a new text message. With an almost pathetic gratitude, Jim picked it up and looked at. Relief paraded across his face. He had his out. "Dan's on his way. He's going to meet me at the stables in ten minutes." He moved forward, hoping his dad would get the hint and let him leave without adding anything more to their current conversation.

"Wait a minute before you go." When Jim turned back to him one hand on the door handle and a look of frustration on his face, Matt explained carefully, not wanting to hurt but knowing he didn't have much of a choice, "It's this thing with you and Trixie. Whatever you do, you've got to do something about it before Saturday. I don't care what. I don't even have any helpful suggestions to offer you. All I want is for you two to have the best and easiest time at the wedding as you can. You deserve it."

"We will." He would have loved to end it there but, seeing that insistent look in his father's eye, well-aware that Matt would keep harping on the subject until Jim either caved, begged him to stop or went quietly insane before his very eyes, Jim held out his hands, announcing his surrender with only a hint of regret. "Don't worry, Dad. It's going to be taken care of. You don't need to say anything else to me about it."

Puzzled, Matt's forehead furrowed. He hadn't expected that kind of a response. "What are you talking about, Jim?"

"I've already promised Honey I would talk to Trixie," Jim answered shortly, finding grim amusement in the astonished look his father threw his way. "You don't need to say anything else. You, Mom, or the rest of the Bob-Whites don't need to bring it up to me, ask me about it or give me any helpful suggestions. We'll get everything settled so that the rest of the week and the wedding will go as smoothly as possible. I'll see to it. We'll talk as soon as we get the chance. I promised Honey," he reiterated forcefully just in case Matt had missed out on it the first time around.

Jim didn't renege on a promise. Matt liked it. He liked it a lot. He thought about Jim's explanation, wondered how Honey had managed to get her brother to make her such a promise, and fervently wished that his daughter had decided to go into business instead of occupational therapy. She would have been a hard one to beat in the boardroom. What he wouldn't have given to watch Honey take Jim on. He imagined it must have been a magnificent sight, his secretly forceful daughter taking on his quiet, taciturn son. "Hold it for a minute, Jim. Let me get this straight. You are going to talk to Trixie." He repeated the words slowly, almost as if saying them helped him believe that Jim actually meant them. The thought of Jim and Trixie talking together bordered on the realm of impossibility. It felt unbelievable good to know that one of them was going to instigate a resolution, even if it was only a temporary one.

"That's right. I'm going to talk to her," Jim replied, disgruntled and obviously not pleased about his promise. His word had been given. He wouldn't be backing out, not now, even if he would have preferred experiencing the joys of an emergency appendectomy or the numbness of a root canal. Both rated close to holding a private, rather intimate discussion with Trixie about a potentially painful and extremely uncomfortable subject.

"When?" Matt didn't give Jim time to open the door before he shot out the next question. "You said that you were going to talk to her, as soon as you can," he reminded him pointedly when Jim groaned under his breath. "You know me. I like getting the details ironed out. When are you planning on doing this?"

Jim's shoulders drooped when he realized that he wasn't getting away any time soon. Slowly, he pivoted around, gauged his father, and answered with an inscrutable expression on his face, "The sooner, the better, right?"

"Exactly what I wanted to hear. It sounds great to me!" Matt remarked with a cheerfulness that grated on Jim's last few remaining nerves. He hooked a thumb in the direction of the second floor. "She's here today. Today sounds good. Maybe you'll get a chance to corner her and go over your issues after your ride. It could happen, Jim."

It certainly could. The thought wasn't a pleasant one; had kept Jim awake a good portion of the night. Many different scenarios had drifted through his mind. He had started many conversations with an imaginary Trixie but none had reached a satisfying conclusion. This was one time where it was going to be much better to go with instinct instead of by a carefully constructed plan. As much as he liked to be prepared, it simply didn't seem to be an option right now. They were going to have to face it, together. One strength they had in common was their love for Brian and Honey. He understood, even without talking to her, that the happiness of their friends would definitely come first. There wasn't any other option for either of them.

Considering the matter settled, Matt gave one imperial nod and reclaimed his seat behind the desk. He fired up his computer. "Excellent, Jim. If you want someone to talk to about it afterwards, let me know. I'm here for you." He watched the screen light up, intentionally not looking to see how Jim took his offer.

As much as he appreciated his father's desire to help, he wasn't going to take him or anyone else up on it. Jim much preferred licking his wounds in private. He offered a mumbled, incoherent answer and, when his father waved him off, disappeared through the door. His fingers fumbled to close it behind him. The loud click was the only outlet he gave for his tumultuous emotions. Out in the hallway, he looked into nothingness but his imagination was much stronger than his resolve. An image of a pretty blonde flittered in front of him, tantalizing him and making him want things he didn't have the right to want anymore. The groan he released was loud and frustrated. Making polite conversation with her wasn't easy. Conversing with her bordered on the impossible. How the hell they were going to have a calm, adult conversation about the expectations for the wedding was beyond him. He hooked a thumb through his belt loop, stared straight ahead, and tried and failed to conjure up any way to start the discussion with her.

Planning it out wasn't coming close to working. He muttered some more under his breath, rubbed his hands together, and started to walk away from the den. When he passed the staircase, he stopped and stared up it. Nothing. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't see anything. Yet she was up there. He knew it. Deciding that he wasn't going to have to think about it for a while longer, finding it good to actually procrastinate for once in his life, Jim spun around and strode swiftly to the front door. He flung it open and stalked towards the stables, unaware of the bright blue sky above and the golden sun shining down. A good ride was exactly what he needed to clear his mind…and to put off what he had promised to do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Eight

Desperately needing a break, Di started to trace circles on the windowpane. The beautiful spring day, in full bloom for the afternoon, was momentarily beyond her capability of recognizing or appreciating. She was much too tired and hungry. She eyed the trays that Celia had brought up almost an hour ago. All empty. No signs of the delicious chicken salad sandwiches, fruit or potato chips. Not only was she hungry but her back ached. She rubbed the small of it and wished that Mart was here to give her one of his patented backrubs. Closing her eyes, imagining he was behind her, she murmured, "Oh, my. We've been working for over three hours, Honey Wheeler, and we've only packed up half of your room. I had no idea that the job would take this long. When did you become our resident packrat?"

"I'm not sure," Honey admitted with a glazed look to her hazel eyes. She stared at the stack of full boxes lining her far wall, with writing splashed across the sides, labeling the contents. She had no idea where they were going to put all of her things in her new house. It was momentarily beyond her. Covering her mouth to swallow back a slightly hysterical giggle, wishing that they had settled on a house with more square footage or at least a full room that could be devoted entirely to her belongings, she turned to Trixie. "Did Brian have this much stuff?" she asked hesitatingly, praying that he didn't. Their house would surely collapse if he did.

Trixie's lips twitched. It was amusing to see her normally calm, composed and serene friend starting to look frazzled. Judging from the amount of work that still needed to be completed, Trixie wasn't surprised. She wrapped an arm around Honey's shoulder to give her moral support and then answered, her voice quivering but not with sympathy, "I'm the wrong one to ask, Honey. It's been a while since I've lived in the same house as him. I do remember that he was always pretty tidy, though. I'm relatively certain that I never saw his room look like this." She tried to fight back the smile, she really did, but she couldn't. It broke free, as well as a loud snort of a giggle that quickly turned into something more.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Honey muttered, eyeing Trixie mutinously and then frowning at Di when she joined in the laughter. "Your turn will come, Belden. Remember that."

"I seriously doubt it. Even if it does come, I don't have this much junk." Trixie laughed even more, holding her hands up in feigned supplication. None of her friends had ever visited her house in California; not because they didn't want to but because the opportunity had never presented itself. She was rarely ever there. It was tough for anyone coordinate a visit when she was constantly out on assignment. No one had ever seen the inside of the house which Trixie figured was a very good thing. She wasn't certain how they would react to all the pink, as well as the ultra frilly and feminine feel to the place. It would have been blatantly obvious that her house wasn't more than a place for her to stay between assignments and wasn't an actual home. "Most of the stuff in my house came with it. I only added my clothes and my pictures."

Di's sudden burst of giggles died down as quickly as it had started up. So did her tiredness. Revitalized, she spotted two familiar men walking away from the stables, towards the house. One was tall and dark. The other was one of their resident redheads. She didn't need to get any closer to recognize him as their other co-president. "Hmm," she mumbled to herself, considering, her mind working a mile a minute. Her narrowed gaze slid from Trixie to Jim and then back again. An embryo of a plan flitted through her mind. It was a little dirty, a whole lot underhanded, and would require a tiny bit of truth-stretching. It didn't take her half of a second before she decided that she was up for it. Unobtrusively, she hid her roll of packaging tape under the light green bedspread of the guest bed and carefully placed an extra roll with it. Keeping a sharp eye on Trixie, she smoothed down the cover and began circling through the room, scanning for any other rolls of tape that had been left lying unattended.

Completely oblivious to Di's machinations, Trixie flopped down on a desk chair. She reached up and took out the thin headband that was keeping her curls back. Twirling it around her fingers, she declared, "It's not that bad, though, Honey. We've packed up everything from your bookshelves and your desk. We've also tackled one entire dresser and have it cleared out. The only places we have left to pack up are your other dresser and…" Here she paused, leaned forward, and whispered dramatically, "The closet."

Honey nearly whimpered. "Oh, God," she murmured and buried her head in an overly stuffed pillow on her bed. Her muffled voice came through. "The closet. Please, tell me. Not the closet. Trixie, you haven't seen my closet in a while, have you?"

"No. I haven't." Feeling a unique sort of trepidation, Trixie slowly stood up and walked cautiously towards the area in question. Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled back the door and let out a loud, shocked gasp. It was packed from one end to the other with an endless, countless assortment of clothes. There were just as many shoes, boots, and sneakers as could be humanly stuffed into the closet on the floor. And, on the top shelf, there more boxes, most likely stuffed with more clothes. "Honey Wheeler!" she exclaimed, her hands on her hips and sending a slightly accusatory glare her friend's way. "What are we going to do with you? If we decided to have a fundraiser for old time's sake, we could auction off your entire wardrobe and make enough to feed a whole army for an entire year. You have to have more clothes than Crimper's Department Store."

"I know. You're right. I can't deny it. I know." Honey gave up and settled into a long bout of laughter, wild and hysterical. Because her ribs ached with the effort, she held onto her sides and swiped away at the tears beginning to stream down her face. When she was almost positive she could talk, Honey added, her voice cracking with the effort, "That's why I thought today would be a good idea to start packing me up. We have the rest of the week to work on it if we don't get it finished today."

A flash of red drew her attention. Hardly hearing Honey's response, Trixie reached towards the back of the closet and fingered the red of an old, well-worn and extremely familiar coat. Memories came back at her, starting with the very first time she had put on her own BWG coat, and how proud it had made her feel. She saw all seven of the teenaged Bob-Whites, wearing the symbol of their club, and recalled many of the good times they had shared together. There were so many of them. Countless and precious, every single one of them. She rubbed the material between her fingers. It felt sturdy under her touch, made her smile to know that nothing had marred its fabric over the years. Her coat was in the same shape. It was hanging in her smaller closet in California, one of the few personal items that her house housed. Bowing her head, she missed seeing Di hastily snatch up another roll of packaging tape and hide it behind a pillow or pull out a used one from the small canister that served as Honey's trash can.

Di sent a roving eye around the room, satisfied that no more rolls of tape were visible. All were taken care of. Finally, it was time. She took a deep, calming breath. When she was relatively certain her voice wasn't going to tremble with laughter, she announced loudly, "Honey. We've got a problem."

With her eyes still glistening with unshed tears of mirth, Honey worked hard to regain control of her uncontrollable giggles. "What…what's that, Di?" she finally answered.

"This." Di held up the used roll of tape and forced a convincing frown on her face, grateful for the drama classes she had taken in high school. "This is our problem. We're going to have to call it a day unless you have more packaging tape. I can't find any more of it in your room. We can't do much else without the tape."

The last of her giggles dried up instantaneously. Bewildered, Honey stood up and surveyed the room, her eyebrows drawn together in concentration, and her good humor gone. "Well, that's funny," she said, tilting her head to one side. "I know I brought plenty of them up here." She started to count the amount in her mind. "I think I brought up five rolls. We've already gone through them? How could that be?"

The urge to chuckle was consuming her. She ignored it but couldn't keep the gleam out of her eyes. "We must have gone through them. I don't see any more lying around," Di lied without a qualm, rocking back on her heels and trying to look innocent. If Honey hadn't been so befuddled, she would have realized Di was up to something. If Trixie had been paying closer attention, she would have realized it, too.

"Through what?" Trixie called out from the closet with a curious look over her shoulder.

"The tape," Honey replied, her pretty face set in lines of pure puzzlement. "I, well…Hmm. Interesting. Or odd. I'm not certain which word is more appropriate. I guess we're going to need to get some more. I think there are some more downstairs in my father's desk."

"In your father's den?" Di repeated, touching a perfectly painted fingernail against her chin. Better and better was all she could think. If she had planned it right, Trixie should be able to run into Jim downstairs. Dan would be with him. He would make a terrific buffer for them. "All right. That should solve our problem. How about we send Trixie down for it? You and I can start folding up your clothes from the closet or the dresser while she retrieves the tape." She turned to Trixie, a large, innocent smile on her lips. "Trixie, I don't mean to offend you but you're not very good at folding. You, well, you're all thumbs. I've seen you pack a suitcase before."

Trixie hadn't taken her eyes off of the door. Honey's room was a haven, a safe haven. If she left…She couldn't finish the thought. Needing clarification, she inquired slowly, "You want me to go downstairs?"

"Yes, we do." Di smiled indulgently, acting as if she was unaware that Trixie would prefer not to leave the room, especially on her own. "It won't be that hard, Trix. It'll only take you a few minutes. Ten minutes, tops. All you have to do is walk downstairs, go to Mr. Wheeler's den, get the tape from his desk, and come back up here. It's a piece of cake. Right, Honey?"

Honey's sympathetic heart took over. "Oh, don't worry, Trix. I can go get it," she immediately offered, jumping up from the bed to do just that. Di's heel on the top of her foot made her stop and stare quizzically at her friend. "Ouch!" she cried out and slanted an annoyed glance at Di.

"Let Trixie go." Di kept that that same patient smile on her face. She applied a little more pressure when she felt Honey want to make the offer again. Clenching her teeth, she insisted, "You and I can fold your clothes. Trixie doesn't want to do that, do you, Trix?"

Feeling neatly cornered and outmaneuvered by an apparently wide-eyed and innocent looking sister-in-law, Trixie drew back and looked her over for an exceedingly long moment. "I suppose not," she finally said, one eyebrow lifted high, and not fooled for a minute. It appeared that she was going to brave the downstairs on her own. Knowing the way her luck run, she would be running into Jim before she even hit the stairs.

Di let Trixie's sarcasm roll right off of her. "Good!" she exclaimed gaily. She grabbed Trixie's arm and practically dragged her to the door. "Honey said that the tape is in her father's den. Go get it! Good luck. We'll see you soon!" She pushed her through the door and closed it tight before Trixie could get a word in edge-wise.

"Nice." Trixie jolted when the door closed at her back. "I don't think you could have been any more obvious, Diana Belden," she grumbled under her breath, her frown deepening when she heard a peel of laughter on the other side. Obviously Di was celebrating her victory in securing her job to get the tape. "And I think you've been spending too much time with that brother of mine." She turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway, becoming more certain with each step of the fact that Di had probably hidden the rest of the tape in the bedroom when she was examining the closet. She started mumbling under her breath, incoherent and unintelligible words that didn't make much sense.

When she reached the landing, Trixie's stalk turned into more of a meander. Carefully, she began to descend the staircase only to be interrupted by the vibration of her cell phone at her waist. Pausing on the steps, Trixie found her phone and stared down at the new text. A personal one. A non-emergency one. From Max, of all people. She stared at it, her mouth moving as she read its simple message. "Call me." She wouldn't have been able to ignore one of the CDA's emergency codes, had one accompanied it. A personal text she could ignore. And she did, with only a small hint of guilt. After all, she reasoned as she clipped her phone back to her belt, every single agent back in San Diego knew she that was on vacation and would not be returning any phone calls. She had learned from the past not to respond. If she did, she would be inadvertently drawn into…something. That wasn't going to happen this time around. Decision made, she started back down the stairs. Whatever Max wanted could wait.

The text all but forgotten, she concentrated on the task at hand: getting to the den for that damn tape without running across Jim. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when she reached the bottom floor and hadn't seen a sight of him. The relief died a swift and violent death. Her heart plummeted when she turned. She could have sworn that she heard fate laughing at her. There he was, sauntering down the hall with Dan at his side and twin cups of steaming coffee in their hands. Her only salvation at the moment was that neither one had noticed her. "Just delightful," she grumbled and aimed a murderous look towards the upstairs. Di would have to pay, she thought, frustrated. Somehow.

Because she didn't want to appear weak, scared, or overwhelmed, Trixie stood as tall as she could, telling herself facing Jim in his house wasn't that big of a deal. It was nothing compared to staring down the barrel of a gun or fleeing for her life, which happened more times than she cared to count during her work. She pinned a smile on her lips that she hoped wouldn't crack her face, and, with as much good cheer as she could muster, started down the hallway.

Dan noticed her first. He eyed Jim, saw that his friend was in the process of lifting his mug to his lips, and decided to be helpful. He waited until Jim had taken a sip of his coffee. With a devilish twinkle to his dark eyes, he called out, "Trix! What are you doing here?" He smothered a chuckle when Jim choked on his warm beverage. Winking at his good friend, giving him a few precious seconds to compose himself, he moved ahead and met Trixie halfway down the hall.

"You know why I'm here, Dan. I'm helping Honey out," she answered, hoping her voice came across as calm and easy instead of nervous and stressed. Inside, her nerves were humming, as they always did when she was in close contact with Jim. Because she needed something to do with her hands, she slipped them into the back pockets of her jeans, having no idea that the simple motion accentuated her curves and made Jim's mouth go dry, and explained, "She wanted me and Di to help pack up her room today."

"In one day?" Dan asked incredulously, thinking about the room upstairs. He had only been in it a handful of times within recent years. It was definitely neat. It was always tidy. But it was absolutely crammed with…well, with stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.

Although it wasn't easy, she actually chuckled. She kept her eyes trained on Dan, only saw Jim out of the very corner of her eyes. He hadn't moved to fully join them yet, was still a few feet away, but he would join them, of that she had no doubt. He wouldn't turn and walk away anymore than she could have retreated when she had first seen him. It would have been too petty and telling. She ran one hand through her curls, ignorant to the fact that Jim followed the motion with avid eyes. "Yeah. We've made pretty good progress but we ran out of packaging tape. Di sent me down to get some," she said by way of an explanation. "They are working on folding up clothes right now. Di remembered that I wasn't the most proficient at folding so here I am."

Understanding dawned perfectly. "Oh." Dan drew the syllable out, added a long, low, appreciative whistle to it. He thought he had seen someone staring down at them from the window. Now he was certain. He grinned in admiration, seriously impressed with her ingenuity. He had to hand it to Mrs. Diana Lynch Belden. She worked fast and she worked smooth. "You can't put much past Di, can you?" he asked quietly and gave a sympathetic nod in her direction.

Jim knew she was here. He knew there was a significant possibility that they would run into each other. But the possibility was nothing compared to the reality. He hid behind another swallow of his warm liquid, one he didn't want this time, and used the time afforded him by Dan to study her over the rim. Worn jeans, a long-sleeve, plain brown shirt that shouldn't have been remotely attractive and yet, on her, made her seem even more sexy to him, and long, blonde curls framing the face that had only become more adorable as she had grown older. No make-up again. Just her clear, glowing skin with the barest hint of a blush in her cheeks. He shook his head, figured that if he didn't go crazy before the wedding day actually arrived, he would consider himself lucky. Deciding it was time to enter the conversation, he came towards them and asked, "Do you need more tape, Trixie?"

She swung her head around, having spent more time concentrating on Dan than on him. He was dressed as casually as she was. Jeans, a sweatshirt and dark brown boots. There was even a hint of a stubble on his face, showing that he must have skipped shaving that morning. He hardly resembled the successful corporate lawyer she knew him to be. The green of his sweatshirt only made his eyes seem even more intense than usual. They were staring right at her, for a prolonged amount of time. That was something extremely new. Most of the time they only shared quick, furtive glances. Nothing quite like this. She ordered her mind to keep functioning, to not turn into a pile of mush since Jim was merely looking at her, and was satisfied with her answer. "Yeah. We've apparently gone through at least four rolls of it already."

"Four rolls? Since this morning?" he asked without thinking. When Dan started chuckling, he had a quick flash of insight. He arched an eyebrow, philosophized that it had been a long time since the girls had tried to throw the two of them together. At least they had pretty good timing, he thought to himself, recalling his conversation with Honey from the night before.

Dan clapped Jim on the shoulder as a sign of good luck, downed the rest of his coffee, and handed him his empty cup, his smile wide and a hint of laughter to his voice. Although he hadn't been a part of setting the two of them up, he figured he could help the cause along. "See you guys later. Have fun packing, Hollywood," he said before they could protest or invite him to stay. Feeling immensely satisfied with himself, he ended up whistling his way down the hallway and breezed through the front door without any guilt.

Just like that, they were left alone, in the center of the hallway, with no one coming out of the glossy and well-maintained woodwork to interrupt them or to offer to stand in as a buffer for them. Suddenly lost, not having a clue what to say next or even remembering that she had been sent on a mission to retrieve a stupid role of tape, Trixie felt an uncomfortable flush spread its way across her face. She cursed it even as she couldn't do anything to prevent it. It was worse because her mother's words were ringing extremely fresh throughout her mind. She didn't have much of a choice. She had to talk to Jim about the wedding. No time like the present, she realized with a fatalistic shrug, and wondered how on earth she could introduce the subject. Her mouth bowed open once but closed when she didn't have a single clue on how to bring it up.

Jim took charge after a long, deadly moment of silence that promised to suffocate them both if they didn't do something about it and quickly. He turned on his heel and ordered curtly, "Follow me." He didn't check to see if she was following him. Instead, he led the way into his father's den. Again, all without making a word. Inside his suddenly jumbled brain, he was creating and discarding topic starters as fast as they came to him. He honestly didn't know how to start what was certain to be an uncomfortable and sticky subject for them both. Without checking to see if she had followed him, he skirted around the large, imposing desk, absently placed the coffee mugs on top, and rummaged through a drawer until he found a new roll of the tape. He offered it to her, being careful not to let their fingers touch. "Do you think you're going to need it?"

She was just as careful when she accepted it. A ghost of a grin flittered around her mouth. "I don't think so. I'm certain Di and Honey have already found the ones that Di hid from me." And they were probably laughing their heads off and discussing the predicament they had gleefully pushed her into. Trixie couldn't dredge up much annoyance, though. They had to get on the same page, even if it only lasted for the wedding.

"It's been awhile since they've tried this," he noted into the thickening silence. He hated the stiltedness of them, the uncomfortable aura that settled over them anytime they were together. It was always present, whether they were in a group setting or alone. Everyone had to feel it although no one was ever badly mannered enough to point it out to him. It only became more prominent when it was just the two of them. How things could have gone so wrong, so quickly, between them continued to not make a whit of sense to him. He wouldn't be at all surprised if Trixie shared that same thought with him.

"Tell me about it," she mumbled under her breath, using a precious few seconds to help strengthen her composure. More than grateful for her training, she straightened her back and made herself look directly at him without wavering or allowing any emotions to show. Louder, she explained, "But I think Di was the mastermind this time. Honey didn't have much to do with it. In fact, when I look back, she almost blew it. Your sister was only her lackey."

He cleared his throat. Uncertain if it was better to remain behind the desk or come around front and join her, he decided to stay put. It suddenly seemed like a fabulous idea to have a good, solid object like a large desk in-between them, especially when they had such a tough subject that needed their attention. Searching for a simple topic before bringing up the more imposing one, he led off with, "I saw Honey's room last night. She was starting to get it ready for the move. Is it looking any better now?"

"It's about half-organized now," Trixie answered, an almost awed tone to her voice. It had been a long time since her and Jim had held an actual conversation…alone, without someone around watching or prodding them on. She couldn't remember the last one, unless it had been that one in the woods during her first holiday break home from California. That talk hadn't gone extremely well, had only shown her how far they had grown apart. Time and distance certainly hadn't helped them grow back together, either. Focusing on the subject at hand, she added, "There are still boxes everywhere. A good many of them are packed and stacked. We were starting to move onto the closet when Di 'discovered' that we were out of tape."

"Good luck with the closet," he answered without thinking, deadpanned. It startled a stunned laugh out of her. The tinkling sound made his lips curve upwards. It sounded good. It had been an extremely long time since he had made her laugh. Feeling a little more at ease, he said, "Honey likes her clothes."

"I'm finding that out," Trixie answered dryly. For a moment it had felt like a normal conversation between them but, when she couldn't come up with anything else to say and Jim stared back at her out of those deep green eyes, the oddness returned. Again, they were both lost in the dark.

He made the next move and came out from behind the desk, removing the barrier between them and putting them in close proximity. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her. She was that close to him. After slipping a hip onto the edge of the desk, he dangled a long leg and tried not to concentrate on her nearness. Realizing it was best to get it over with, he came out with the best introduction he could come up with. Admittedly, it wasn't terrific. Feeling like he was fumbling, hating that feeling with a passion, he entered the unknown territory with unease, uncertainty, and a great deal of trepidation. "Honey cornered me last night. She wanted to talk to me about…something," he inserted for lack of a better word.

"Did she?" Trixie looked at him curiously, suddenly knowing that Honey had talked to him about a similar topic to the one her mother had shared with her that very morning. She nodded slowly and shared haltingly, "So did my mother. She talked to me about….something, too. This morning, in fact."

Understanding bloomed across his face, as did a good amount of relief. He wouldn't have to bring it all up; the foundation had already been laid for him. To be on the safe side, he asked, wanting complete clarification, "You, me and the wedding, huh?"

She nodded her head. Her long curls bounced. She ran a nervous hand through them but couldn't tame them. She also couldn't tame the torrent of words that rushed out of her mouth. "Hmm. Yeah. Right. That's it exactly. Moms wanted to talk to me about my part in it. You know, maid of honor…"

"And Honey wanted to talk to me about mine," he interrupted. Copying her, he said, "You know, best man…" He let it trail off and relaxed. It wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought, not with Helen Belden already smoothing the way for him.

"It sounds like they are on the same wavelength." Trixie perched on the thick arm of a green leather chair, sending up a small prayer of gratitude. It wasn't going to be horribly uncomfortable. Honey had laid great groundwork for her. "Basically, my mother wants me…no, she wants us, to look happy in the pictures." She lifted her eyes, met his, and for once saw the same emotions swirling in his that she knew were reflected in hers. Hesitation, remembered pain, and a hope that they could put the past behind them for the upcoming week, at the very least.

"We had the same talk." Jim remained calm and collected. Inside, his heart was pounding. It was difficult to believe that they were actually sitting in the same room, conversing with each other, even if it was about an extremely hard subject. "Honey mentioned that to me, too. She pointed out that we are notorious for staying away from each other. She showed me proof, too."

"Proof?" Trixie's head shot up, interested as always. "What kind of proof?"

"The pictures from Mart and Di's wedding," he answered without flinching. "There weren't any of us together. In the few groups shots she showed me, we managed to stay as far away from each other as we can."

It was how she remembered the previous wedding. "You can't argue with the truth." Trixie trailed a finger along the edge of the chair, her fingers following the deep dips of the leather. Quietly, she shared, "Moms also mentioned that we're going to have a lot of people looking at us. They're not only going to be looking, though. They're going to be talking and remembering."

"I hadn't thought about that." He gave his head a rueful shake. There was nothing quite like having the joyful wedding of his best friend and sister turn into one of the hardest days of his life. He thought smiling through pictures with Trixie by his side was going to be hard. It was going to be worse knowing that people would be out there, dredging up their past. "Your mother's right, though. There will be a lot of people bringing up old memories."

Old memories. The simple phrase brought a quick shaft of pain through her. It wasn't until that moment that she truly realized how far away they came from each other. Seven years was merely a measure of time. The distance, the emotional distance, couldn't be measured. She had serious doubts that it could ever be overcome. "We're a little too proud to let something like that bother us," she heard herself say. And a little too proud to try and fix the mistakes between them. That little gem of a thought, a true, bright, mocking epiphany, stayed unspoken. Her eyes widened with the realization.

Jim didn't make the correlation. He shook his head, thinking about her words. "No. That's not it, Trixie. We're a little too proud to give them anything else to talk about," he disagreed, frowning as he pictured that part. They wouldn't be willing to do that at all. He slanted a glance her way, studied her profile, and said words that he never imagined he would ever be saying to her, "So it looks like we're going to have to call a true truce."

Shocked, she met his gaze, sapphire to emerald. Caught, she couldn't look away. All she could do was stare while the meaning slowly sank in. "A truce?" she repeated, feeling like an absolute idiot.

"It's for the best. We can do it. It won't be that hard," he assured her, knowing that he was shamelessly lying to her. Worse, he knew that she knew that he was shamelessly lying to her. "I'll lay it out for you. We only have to act friendly and happy around each other. Smile a lot, laugh a little. Dance a few dances. Take a few pictures. It's not going to be that bad. It's a piece of cake, right?" he finished with a hint of sarcasm.

She would rather be facing an enemy squadron out in the desert in the middle of a raging windstorm instead of taking on the role of her lifetime. Being 'friendly' with Jim was not going to be simple, not with the amount of history existing between them. Acting 'happy' around him was practically impossible. To top it off, they were going to have to act it out in front of their friends and family. At least she had the training for it, she thought with a small, inward sigh. She could do it, even if it practically killed her. "A truce is a good idea, Jim. We won't be fodder for anyone's gossip mills. More importantly, we owe it to Honey and Brian. They deserve a lovely wedding. We can't get in the way of it. It wouldn't be right."

"I agree." In the spirit of the moment, he held his hand out to her. Watching her, gauging her, he saw the second she realized what he wanted her to do. It took a minute before she put out her smaller, freckled, ringless hand. Much like the first moment they met, his hand covered hers. The contact was much swifter than it had been during that fateful summer day and even more potent. They let go of each other's grasp as quickly as they could, neither wanting to hold onto the touch. Even after he let go, he felt her touch, light and sure as it had been, the entire way through him. It made him tingle. It made him ache. And it made him…want. In case he hadn't realized how hard the wedding and all its preparations were going to be, the simple touch alone made a sham of his resolve to not let it affect him.

Her hand fell limply to her side. She swallowed back a sharp gasp. Feeling his skin against hers again, even for such a short time, had been powerful. She fanned her hand out, letting it rest against the denim of her jeans, and tried to ignore the tingles from the point of contact. She should say something. She knew she should but she couldn't come up with anything other than an unintelligible mumble. She nodded her head dumbly, most likely in farewell, she wasn't exactly certain, and, turning, caught the edge of a manila folder with her other hand and sent it crashing to the ground. "Oh!" Trixie cried out, feeling more like a clumsy thirteen-year old again instead of the composed secret agent that she was. Why being in Jim's company for ten minutes could reduce her to such a bubbling mass of emotions, she couldn't say. Blushing a fiery red, she reached down and picked up the scattered contents. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Jim bent down at the same time. Their heads were close together, nearly touching. Her curls brushed against his face. His hand brushed over hers as they collected the papers that had spilled out. The most damaging to his emotional balance was her breath. It caught him near the neck and made him think a few more truly damaging thoughts.

"These are plans," she spoke aloud, staring at the pages in her hands. It took everything she had not to look at Jim, who was hovering near her. Slowly, she stood back up, gripping the side of the desk to help her stand. She didn't want to fall at his feet. "Floor plans."

Jim saw the curious look that crossed her face, one he had seen countless times in the past, and felt relieved to see the guarded expression she usually reserved for him wasn't there. When she held the papers out to him, he took them back and answered her unvoiced question, "They're for Ten Acres. I'm going to start building up there very soon. These are the final plans I recently approved with my contractor."

"I didn't know that." Trixie's fiery red burned brighter while she felt as if she had stuck her foot in her mouth. She didn't know much about Jim, let alone the fact that he was going to start building his own house. A wistful look briefly crossed her face before it was extinguished. That farmhouse was definitely a distant memory. She stared down at the plans in his large hands. He was currently holding the concrete ending to that particular dream.

"I've been thinking about it a lot recently and finally decided to get the ball rolling on it," Jim went on to explain. He rifled through the folder, pulled out the picture of the prototype of what his house would look like when it was completed, barring any special modifications he wanted to add to it, and held it out to her. "I found an excellent contractor. We're meeting next week. One of my jobs this week is to get all the permits that we need. We're very close to getting it started."

Her fingers wanted to shake but she wouldn't let them. Instead, she forced her lips to resemble a smile. He didn't know what it cost her. The rugged log cabin-style home looked perfect for him. There was a front porch that went the entire length of the house, large windows, two levels, at least one, possibly two chimneys. Large open windows would let in a lot of sunlight. That was all she could tell from the front. "It fits you," she murmured before clearing her throat, not wanting him to know how much the site of the future home of Ten Acres was affecting her or how it felt like her heart was breaking all over again. Her voice was throaty when she added, "Perfectly."

Inwardly, he disagreed. He could never quite shake away the image of the house that they had planned on. The log cabin, while perfectly lovely and hospitable, didn't bring him quite as much joy as the other one would have. Outwardly, he forced a smile to his face. "Thanks," he replied, a bit more curtly than he intended and then smoothed away a frown. Somehow, sharing it with her made him feel like he was…cheating on her or something, which was really stupid since they weren't anywhere close to being friends, let alone dating each other.

"Good luck with it," Trixie murmured with forced cheer. She rubbed a hand over her heart, almost as if the motion could heal the rather jagged split that she knew had to be cut down the middle.

"Thanks. It'll keep me busy this summer. My contractor is going to give it top priority. I'm hoping to be in by the middle of September." He raised his shoulders, let them drop, a resigned gesture.

"Knowing you, I'm sure you will be." Trixie tapped the roll of tape against her denim-clad thigh and ordered herself to let it go. It couldn't matter, not to her, she ordered herself fiercely. After all, she reasoned, she was the one with a beach house on the outskirts of San Diego, right where she wanted to be.

"We'll see how it goes. It's exciting. My dad likes the sound of it, too." Jim tried to gauge how she felt about the house but he couldn't get a good read on her. Her eyes were bright. Her smile was bright. And the tone to her voice was, well, bright. Too bright, maybe. Something was a little off with her. Not for the first time, he wished that he could read her as well as he used to be able to do. It was a skill he didn't possess anymore.

"Good luck with your house. I need to get this tape up to Honey," she remarked with a cheerfulness that felt awkward passing through her lips. With that same bright smile tacked onto her face that made him uncomfortable instead of relaxed, she turned and said, "It was nice talking to you, Jim. I'll, umm, see you later."

It had been nice until he had been reminded about the huge gaping holes in their relationship. Could they be mended to even let in a little taste of their old friendship? He didn't know, not if something as simple as a picture of a house could throw him off balance or make him want to do something totally asinine, like apologize for daring to put up something different than the farmhouse that they had once planned on. "Later, then. You can, ah, tell Di and Honey that everything went fine between us. They won't have to worry about us during the wedding."

Her smile this time was much more natural. "I'll be certain to do that. 'Bye." She had to get out. She slipped like a shadow through the doorway, the tape clutched, forgotten, in her hand, and closed the door quietly behind her. When she was alone in the hallway, Trixie leaned back against the solid wall, released a long, slow expulsion of breath and crinkled her nose. She pushed away the thoughts of the house and focused on the most amazing part of their conversation. A truce. An actual truce. With Jim, of all people. She let the thought overtake her, felt her lips tilt up at the corners. She had no idea that a spark had re-entered her eyes or that her cheeks blossomed with a pretty pink that cosmetic companies would die to manufacture. Who would have thought it was possible? she mused to herself. It wasn't going to be effortless. Certainly wasn't going to be the most fun experience of her life. Whatever the emotional toil it took on her, it would be worth it. "For Honey and Brian," she said under her breath, although she had a strong suspicion that she and Jim could benefit the most from it, if they did it right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Nine

The nerves weren't as bad as they had been the day before. Jim's suggestion had managed to settle most of them. She put her hand on her stomach, was delighted to realize she wasn't nearly as jumpy or agitated with the prospect of seeing him again. With a toss of her head, Trixie took the porch steps two at a time. As predicted, she was going to be spending a lot of time at Honey's home. It was only Tuesday morning of Wedding Week, as she was beginning to dub the week in her mind, and here she was, already making her third trip to the house. This visit was the one she had been dreading. It was all about the dresses. The edges of her mouth pulled down while thoughts of the morning assaulted her. There wasn't anything she liked less doing than standing in a formal dress while the dress was fitted to her body. To put it mildly, it was boring.

Determined to enjoy the morning even if it killed her, Trixie walked up to the front door. Squinting, she couldn't see inside through the fancy swirls and elegant patterns of the decorative glass and didn't have a clue who was inside the house or who would let her in. She pushed the doorbell, listened to the deep, familiar twinkling sounds of the musical announcement of a guest, and had a true welcome smile on her face when the door opened, for whoever greeted her, even if that person had red hair and green eyes.

"I beat you today!" Di sang out merrily. Trixie didn't acknowledge the small swoop of disappointment when her friend opened the door. Di gave a small bow and, with a flourish of her hands, motioned for Trixie to come inside the house. "Come on in, Trixie. We are just about ready to commence with the morning's festivities."

"Now I know you've been spending way too much time with Mart," Trixie noted sarcastically as she stepped over the threshold. She forced her attention to stay on Di although she was dying to see if anyone else was in the vicinity. Casually, she glanced down at her jeans, picked at a small, frayed hole on her thigh, and lifted her head the tiniest of bits to peer off to the right. There wasn't anyone there.

Di giggled in response. "While I know you would see that as a fate worse than death, I happen to like spending as much free time as I can with your 'almost' twin," she teased good-naturedly, accepting the jest in the manner it had been given. "After all, I married him!"

"There's no accounting for taste," Trixie countered with a twinkle in her eyes. She looked straight into Di's face; unobtrusively concentrated on the area directly behind her friend. Again, no one was coming down the stairs. Only the left side of the hallway hadn't been inspected.

"Speaking of spending a lot of time with my husband…" Pausing intentionally, Di studied Trixie intently. Well aware of the antagonistic sibling relationship the two of them reveled in, she couldn't help but wonder why they had spent a good portion of the evening in each other's company, away from the others. "You spent a long time with my husband last night when you and your parents came over for dinner. What were you two talking about on the front porch for so long while your parents and I sat in the living room?"

"Oh, we talked about lots of things," Trixie mumbled, her cheeks flushing a bright red. "He told me about his work, the trouble he's been having with his car, the room you repainted upstairs. He asked me about my job and how it's going. We also talked about the wedding and…" Here, her voice trailed off and her blush deepened.

"And you told him about your truce with Jim," Di finished for her, immensely pleased that the two were making some progress. Di already knew about the truce. Trixie had shared the astonishing news with her the afternoon before when they had finished assisting Honey with her pack-up.

"Yes. Mart was very interested in it. He had a million and one questions for me," Trixie shared, scowling at the recent memory. Mart hadn't let her brush off any his questions. He had only been satisfied once he had had a full accounting. In fact, she had told him more than she had shared with Di and Honey right afterwards. Her scowl smoothed out when she remembered the comforting hug he had given her afterwards. "Mart must be taking his own interviewing skills to a new level. He grilled me about it for a good fifteen minutes last night. I finally had to offer to go in and help you with the dinner dishes in order to get him to stop." Feeling that now was a good time to get the lay-out of the left side of the house, Trixie stretched her arm out and look inconspicuously off in that direction. Again, nothing. He wasn't here. She had to smooth away the disappointment.

Mart only grilled her about it to make certain that his sister was going to be able to handle the stress of the wedding and its preparations without any problems, Di thought with a hidden smile. The two siblings were closer than they cared to let on and were always there to help each other through any kind of a problem. "I appreciated your help in the kitchen. It was fun working with you and your mother. It didn't take long at all before we had the kitchen put back to rights," she said, letting the subject drop. She threaded her arm through Trixie's and tugged her away from the main hall.

"So, where are we meeting today? And are we doing anything else besides the fitting?" Trixie inquired, glad to change the subject to something else. "We didn't talk much about today yesterday, if you understand what I'm trying to say. All I knew was to get here early and that we're getting our dresses finished."

"I don't know if Honey has any other ideas but I'm only able to be here for the fitting this morning." Di stared down at the carpeted floor and mumbled, "Mart is coming to pick me up later, right before lunchtime. He needs me to go with him to the shop so he can get his car back. Then I'll be able to drive my car home"

Immediately suspicious, her eyebrows snapped together. Something didn't seem right with Di's explanation. Trixie stared at Di curiously, pondered why Mart needed her help retrieving his car when the garage they always used was practically a stone's throw away from his work place. With a question forming on her lips, she was interrupted by Honey's arrival before she could voice it, much to Di's secret relief.

"And Trixie's here now, too!" Honey sashayed out of the dining room, her smile so wide and brilliant it nearly split her pretty and excited face. She practically danced her way over to her friends, a small gift bag dangling from her fingers. "Thank goodness! You're late. Oh, isn't this lovely? I'm so excited I can hardly wait. We get to try our dresses on!" Honey clasped her hands together and jumped up and down.

Trixie lifted both eyebrows and stared at Di over Honey's bobbing head. She wasn't aware she had been late. A glance at the clock told her that she was, in fact, ten minutes early. It was obvious that Honey couldn't wait to get the proceedings under way. Sharing a conspiratorial wink with Di, she asked, "What do you think, Di? Is she looking forward to this morning or what?"

Di held her forefinger and her thumb together, allowing the tiniest bit of space to reside in-between them. "Just a little," she retorted, smothering her own grin.

"Oh, stop it, you two," Honey ordered them with a twinkling laugh. "Of course I am excited to try my dress on again. It's been about a month since the last time I got to wear it. Believe it or not, I've been dreaming about this moment ever since then. I can't wait to see how it looks." Her face took on a joyful gleam. "What's even better is the fact that the dresses are going to stay here. It's our plan that the dresses will be finished today!"

"That's wonderful," Trixie declared, not overly impressed with the fact that the dresses would be officially finished but willing to share in Honey's excitement. "Where are we doing this?" Honey didn't answer. Trixie ended up staring at something that Honey pulled out of a gift bag and held it up.

"Here, Trixie, this is for you," Honey said, shaking the item towards her friend. "I picked one up for you since you're going to need it for your dress. Somehow, I didn't think you owned one and I didn't remember to tell you to buy one before you came home. So, since you need to wear one for your dress, I figured I would pick one up for you, instead."

Trixie gingerly accepted the item. She studied the contraption with a decided frown, bewildered. A bra the color of skin rested in her hand. The straps were not in the normal configuration. The top strap made a circle, obviously meant to go around her neck, and the bottom straps were longer than she had ever remembered them being. Lifting up the sophisticated bra, she raised an eyebrow at the strappiness of it, and questioned smartly, "What the hell is this supposed to be?"

"It's a bra, a convertible bra," Honey explained carefully, flinching a little from the sarcastic way Trixie was staring at her. The look said it all. Honey sucked in a deep breath and carefully explained, her voice getting louder and more forceful, "As I said a minute ago, you are going to need it for your dress, Trixie Belden. The back of your dress is a slightly lower than normal. Without this bra, you'd be able to see the straps. I don't think you want your dress overshadowed by your bra, do you?"

No one was going to be looking at her. Everyone's attention was going to be on the bride. Trixie kept quiet; only murmured a faintly acerbic, "Lovely." She called up a mental picture of the dress Honey had emailed her almost a year ago. Unfortunately for her, she had been on an assignment and hadn't paid too much attention to the dress. She had looked at the front, thought it looked fine for a dress, and had sent back her okay for it. She had never thought to study the back. Chewing on her bottom lip, she wondered how low was low, and wished that she had taken the time to at least look at the dress from all angles.

"They're absolutely beautiful dresses, Trix!" Di inserted cheerfully and with meaning. She loved the style and the color, thought it suited the simple yet elegant theme of Honey's wedding beautifully. "You're going to look stunning in it."

She wanted to groan. She really did. Trying on a dress was bad enough. Putting on some kind of a special bra to go with the dress made it almost a fate worse than death. But one look at Honey's beaming face made her lips smile instead frown. She would do just about anything for her best friend. "Where are we going for the fitting, Honey? Is the seamstress ready for us?"

"Seamstresses, Trix," Honey corrected her gently, earning yet another scowl from her friend. Ignoring it, she pointed in the direction of her mother's domain and finally answered Trixie's question. "We're meeting in the formal living room. It's large enough for all of us to gather in and for the seamstresses to work in. The curtains have been closed so that we have all the privacy. We each get to be fitted with our own small team of seamstresses working on us. It's just you, me and Di being worked on today, though. My other bridesmaids have already been fitted." Her other bridesmaids were friends from college, perfectly nice women who would be coming into Sleepyside on Friday and were staying at the Glen Road Inn with many of the other guests of the wedding. Matthew Wheeler had blocked out the entire inn the second Honey had set the date so that they would have enough places to accommodate all of the guests. Honey bounced as she walked down the hall, her feet hardly touching the floor, while she was already anticipating the feel of her dress against her skin.

Trixie grabbed Di's hand and held her back. "Seamstresses?" she whispered under her breath.

"It's exactly like she said. A team of them," Di shot back happily, her violet eyes laughing at the grimace of pain that crossed Trixie's face. Without an ounce of sympathy for her friend, she added, "I think we have two of them working on each of us."

"Oh, woe." She gave one last look at the dainty scrap of satin and lace clutched in her hands and swallowed back a large groan. Seamstresses, special bras, and fancy dresses. Without the presence of Honey and Di, it could easily have been straight out of one of her nightmares. Together, the three entered the formal living room. The drapes had been drawn, blocking out most of the bright April sunlight. The windows at the top were in the shape of a half circle and were left unfettered and free. They allowed a few necessary rays of sun to filter into the room, to keep it light and airy for everyone inside. The lights were on anyway, to assist with the fittings. A large dressing screen had been set up in the far corner for the women to change behind when the time came. The dresses were hanging from rolling stands, waiting for the women to try them on. There were also three small stools positioned in front of different standing mirrors in various parts of the room.

Madeleine and Marjory Trask stared up from their intense discussion with the head seamstress. "Hello, ladies!" Madeleine greeted them gaily. She hurried over and gave her daughter a warm hug. "It's good to see all of you. I'm so excited about today. I can barely contain myself!"

Marjory greeted each woman joyfully and with a hug herself. "Marriage is certainly agreeing with you, Diana," she said, smiling happily at the only married young woman in the group before turning to Trixie. "It's wonderful to see you again, Trixie. It's been almost a year."

"You're right, Miss Trask. Di's wedding was the last time," Trixie answered after returning the quick hug. She had never been able to call her by her given name. In fact, none of the Bob-Whites had been able to. To them, she was always going to be Miss Trask, even though she no longer hired and fired the staff at the Manor House and had branched out with a successful business on her own.

Marjory nodded her head. "Well, we have a busy morning today. Our wonderful helpers have almost finished setting up their supplies. They are going to take care of all of you this morning and will get started on any alterations as soon as they are finished with you. We hope to have all of the dresses finished before they leave. Then we'll hang them up in one of the guest room closets until we need them on Saturday."

"Saturday," Honey breathed out quietly, her face taking on a far-away look that all of them had been witnessing a lot recently. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and pictured the day in her mind. It was going to be a perfectly perfect one. She could feel it.

"Honey," Madeleine announced briskly, bringing all eyes towards her. "We're going to let Trixie and Di go first this morning. I want you to look at the seating chart we came up with yesterday. It's the final one unless you can find any issues with it. After you give us your approval, we'll move on to the most exciting part of our day."

With the scrap of silk hanging from her fingers, Trixie perched on the edge of a cream-colored loveseat. "I'll be delighted to wait, Di. You can get changed first." She blinked innocently at her friend.

Taking the hint, Di accepted her dress from one of the seamstresses and walked behind the screen. Within a few minutes, she had stripped off her light purple shirt and matching pants and had slipped into the dress. She stepped around it and moved off to the side where she was motioned to from the two women who were apparently assigned to work on her.

Trixie moved closer to Di, taking the time to study the dress. She noticed the thin halter top that wrapped around her neck, the exposed shoulders, the dip along the front that was a little lower than she was comfortable with, and, when Di was directed to turn to the side, the goodly amount of skin exposed by the back. "Gleeps," she muttered under her breath. The top of the dress wasn't quite her style. She reluctantly admitted to liking the skirt and the way it flared down to the ground.

"Yes, gleeps," one of the seamstresses repeated to her workmate, frowning at Diana's dress. "I think the dress is going to have to be taken out. Again," she added reproachfully.

Trixie snapped her head back, stared at the older woman who had muttered the comment, and, when she saw the other lady nod her head in agreement, she bit back the hot retort on her lips and studied Diana with a different eye. The dress was a little snug, especially through the bodice. Di had always been well-endowed but... A sudden thought came at her. She carefully stood up from her spot and made her way towards her sister-in-law.

Di colored a bit. "I know," she admitted, her face turning a becoming pink. "I'm sorry. It's going to have to be let out a bit more this time, too," she mumbled contritely, fidgeting with her fingers and her head bowed. "I don't know what got into me."

"Just go easy this week," her seamstress advised her quietly. She took the measurements down and nodded. "There won't be any problems, though. The dress will suit you just fine for this Saturday. It's not that bad."

"Thank goodness," Di answered back. She turned her head, caught Trixie standing next to her, and groaned inwardly at the interested look on her sister-in-law's face. Cursing to herself, the flush bloomed even more, making Di an uncomfortable shade of red.

The flush sealed it for her. A smile spread its way across her face. Forgetting that it was her turn to put her dress on and that she had two seamstresses waiting impatiently for her, Trixie closed in, wrapped an arm around Di's shoulder, and whispered excitedly, "Diana! Why didn't you tell us?"

Di shushed her with her hands. "Sh, sh," she hissed lowly, keeping her eyes on Honey, her mother and Miss Trask who were engrossed in studying the chart on Miss Trask's laptop almost the entire way across the room. Honey was pointing at the screen and nodding approvingly, obviously pleased with the choices that had been made the day before. Di stepped down from her stool, leaned down so that her dark head touched Trixie's blonde one, and ordered sharply, "Not now, Trixie. Not here and not now. It's got to wait. Please. Mart and I don't want to tell anyone until after the wedding."

It was difficult but she swallowed back the gleeful shriek that wanted to emanate from her mouth. Pitching her voice to match Di's, also keeping a wary eye on the trio across the room, she insisted in a whisper, "You don't have to wait, Di. Honey won't care. She'll be thrilled. So will Brian. Everyone else, too. There isn't one person who wouldn't mind knowing about it now."

"No," Di argued just as vehemently. She ignored the seamstress who was trying to lead her back onto her little stool and gave a negative shake of her head. She reached up and ran her hands nervously over her twin French braids. "I may not have to wait, Trixie, but I want to. I went through the stress of a large wedding last year. It was the best day of my life. Everything went perfectly. I don't mean to sound selfish but it was completely my day." She bit her lip, aware of the fact that she did, indeed, sound a trifle egocentric.

"Di," Trixie interrupted only to be silenced again.

She spoke more insistently, "It's true. It was my day and Mart's day, which is really the way a wedding day should be. I don't want to take any of the limelight off of Honey and Brian. They deserve it all. Mart tried to get me to tell everyone about a month ago but I told him no. I'm adamant about waiting until after the wedding. We'll tell everyone then. Brian and Honey deserve having the entire day to themselves. We'll share our news later," she declared with an uncharacteristic forcefulness.

"They won't care if you tell them now," Trixie remarked truthfully but sighed when she saw that Di had that militant look to her violet eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't going to budge. It was odd for her sister-in-law to dig in her heels but, when she did, Trixie knew there wouldn't be any wavering. Surprisingly, she gave up, willing to respect Di's wishes. She moved closer to Di and eagerly asked for more information, "Well, if you aren't going to say anything to anyone else, you can at least share a little bit with me, since I know the wonderful news. Tell me when."

Di's smile blossomed as her lovely face took on a rapturous quality. Part of her still had trouble believing in her pregnancy even though she was just about out of her first trimester. "October," she answered joyfully, completely ignorant of the two seamstresses avidly listening in on the conservation, with happy smiles on their faces. "We're projected for the 24 but we'll have to wait and see. My mother was always early with us. We're going to the doctor's later today. That's why I have to leave early."

"A new baby Belden," Trixie declared in awe. She wrapped her arm around Di's waist and held on tight. "Congratulations, Di! I can't wait until I see Mart."

"Your turn, Miss Belden," a new seamstress stated, breaking up the duo before her with a sharp glance at the clock. They had the entire day scheduled for the job, which included the fitting as well as finishing the final adjustments. She looked at Di and added, "And you aren't finished yet, Mrs. Belden. From the looks of it, I don't think you've even started."

Trixie picked up the convertible bra, looking both mournful and in pain. Her eyes widened, her lips thinned, and her face contorted as she aimed a death glare at the innocent item of clothing. Plucking at the extra long strap, she wondered how the hell she was supposed to put it on without tying herself her up in it or hanging herself. With a mixture of frustration and intimidation, not that she would have admitted to it, she began chewing on her bottom lip and walked on heavy, reluctant feet towards the dressing area.

Di knew what needed to be done. "I'll help you with it," she offered quickly. She whispered a hasty apology to her seamstresses who looked after her in exasperation before dragging Trixie over to the screen and pushing her behind it. "It's not that hard, Trix. We only need to wear it because the backs of our dresses are on the low side."

"I see that," Trixie replied, tongue-in-cheek, as she stared at the exposed back of her sister-in-law. Not a strap was in sight, which only proved the fact that the damn bra was definitely necessary. Playfully, she hung the bra over her neck like it was the ugliest, most ill-fitting necklace ever created, while the cups dangled over her shirt. "What do you think, Di? Is this right or not?"

Di gave an unladylike snort and nudged her with her elbow. "We'll do a run-through first. Then you can try it out for yourself. I'll be here to help if you need it, though." She took off the bra and, considering, adjusted the straps and lifted it over Trixie's head. It looked incongruous lying on the outside of her soft yellow shirt. She tugged on the strap that went around Trixie's neck. "We also have a halter top so you need this strap over your head. Don't worry. The strap won't be seen." She waited a bit, wondering if she had given Trixie some ammunition, but when Trixie didn't say anything sarcastic, she continued, "The bra fits like a normal one but, instead of fastening in the center of your back like your everyday one, we take this other strap here and wrap it around your waist." She did just that and then fastened it. "See? We close it shut and we're all done. Nothing to it, Trix. It's very easy."

"It doesn't seem too bad," Trixie agreed after a minute. She ran her finger over the strap at her waist, learning the feel of how it went, and then felt the strap at her neck. It didn't seem as complicated as she had expected it to be. "I think I can handle it."

"I'll be here for you, just in case you need some help." Di turned her back on Trixie, giving some privacy, and peered over the side of the screen. Honey was fingering the material of her wedding dress, happily chattering away with her mother and Miss Trask, who were watching over the proceedings with a hawk-eyed intensity that made Di giggle. There was a sweet, blissful expression on Honey's face. She obviously couldn't wait to put her dress on. It was such a pretty dress, too, Di thought with her own dreamy sigh, remembering the feel of her wedding gown. She had worn her dress as long as humanly possible for her wedding and had wanted to cry when she had seen the amount of dirt and stains the very bottom edge of her skirt had picked up simply by wearing it.

Completely unaware of Honey's preoccupation with her dress or Di's trip down memory lane, Trixie grumbled under her breath. She stared straight ahead, lifted her shirt up and over, and dropped it to the floor. Her rather plain, not nearly as elegant, and completely white bra was next. Scowling down at the new one, she studied the straps and, using her excellent memory, figured out which one went over her head. She retraced the steps Di had shown her and felt like letting out a cheer when she was able to successfully wrap the strap and close the bra around her waist. She was pleasantly surprised when she had the bra situated without any issues or bodily harm and in a short amount of time. "All done, Di!" she called out triumphantly, grinning in amusement.

Di tossed a glance her way over her shoulder. "I knew you could do it," she chirped merrily. Then her eyes widened as she noticed something on Trixie's lower back she had never seen before, peeping just above the waistband of her jeans on her right side. Three large steps, she peered closer, reached out to touch it, and declared in a shocked voice, "Trixie Belden! You have a tattoo!"

The touch made her go ramrod straight. Her smile of triumph slid away, as did her good humor. Inwardly, she swore. Quite inventively, too. She was generally more careful to keep her tattoo hidden. To her knowledge, no one who lived in Sleepyside knew about it. That was the way she preferred it. "Yes, I do," she replied casually. Her fingers fumbled with the snap of her jeans but she didn't push them down her hips yet, not with Di standing right next to her. "Is that my dress right here?" she asked in an attempt to distract Di, pointing to the dress one of the seamstresses had neatly laid over the back of a chair before they had made their way behind the screen.

"Oh, no, you don't." Di gave a vehement shake of her head. Unwilling to be brushed aside, she put her hand on Trixie's waist, tugged Trixie closely, and stared. "Stars," she noted in awe and touched each of them. She counted them aloud like she was still in kindergarten. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. You have seven stars. Oh! That's neat. I just realized that they form a circle." She put a finger on the first star and moved it around in the shape, touching each star again in her travels. "I can't believe you have a tattoo."

"Yes, I do." Trixie felt the tell-tale blush work its way across her face. She would have loved to have turned, to block Di's view, but realized Di would only insist on getting a closer look.

"It's beautiful work." Ever the artist, Di studied it with the practiced eye of a connoisseur. "You used black for each star but then you did something different. I like the shading you had done around the sides of the stars. You didn't have the stars colored in; just the outside part of it. You even put in an infinity sign, right here in the star that's etched out in green." She noted the colors around the edges of each star, saw that they were all different, and zeroed in on the one star edged in a bright blue. There was a letter tattooed onto three of the star's points but Di couldn't make them out. Trixie moved slightly, obscuring her view. "It's a really lovely tattoo."

"Thanks," Trixie replied, refusing to bite her bottom lip. She ran a hand over her untamed curls and wondered how long it would be before Di shared her discovery with everyone. Since there were a million and one questions dancing in Di's eyes, Trixie offered, hoping to appease her with a little bit of information, "A friend of mine sketched it out for me. It took a few tries before we got the one that I wanted." Heidi had been very patient, too. She had listened to Trixie's ideas and had willingly sketched them all out until she had finally decided on the seven stars. At first Trixie had thought about having them placed in a line but when Heidi had drawn the seven stars in a circle arrangement, she had immediately changed her mind. It had felt like a perfect fit for her.

"I like it," Di announced decisively. Then she pulled back, waited until Trixie turned around to face her and unleashed a few of the questions Trixie was anticipating, "But when did you do it? And why have you never shown it to us?"

It was her turn to blush. "I got it done a few years ago." Trixie hid an inner groan. The questions would only get worse, especially once everyone knew about it. "I don't know why I never showed it to anyone. I guess it wasn't that big of a deal to me," she said with a shrug. She hated the white lie. There was a very good reason why she had never shown it to her friends. The letters C, D, and A, inscribed at the points in one of her stars, was a very strong deterrent for sharing it with them. None of them would know what it meant but she didn't want to have to field the interrogation about the initials.

"Well, I think it's pretty cool. I've always liked tattoo art." Di looked up, intrigued and interested. "I thought about getting one once when I was in college but I never went through with it. I've never been all that fond of needles, you know, which pretty well killed the idea for me. The thought of sitting still for someone to draw on my skin didn't appeal to me as much as the idea of the completed project. Did it hurt?"

"Not too much," Trixie answered truthfully. Desperate for a change in conversation, she overlooked her embarrassment in standing nearly naked in front of Diana and slipped out of her jeans. She picked up the gold dress and unzipped it, knowing that fashion would win out over tattoos any day of the week with her sister-in-law. "Want to help me put this on?"

"Sure." Di buttoned the small button at the nape of her neck and helped zip up the dress. With a few practiced moves and smoothes, she had the skirt falling in all the right places and had to bite down a swallow of envy when Trixie turned around to face her. The dress fit her like a glove. And the color…it only accentuated the almost permanent tan Trixie had gained since her move out West. She looked amazing. Di suddenly felt out-dressed by her sister-in-law and smoothed a hand over her belly. What was growing inside definitely made up for the slight blow to her vanity. "Wow, Trix. You look absolutely beautiful," Di proclaimed sincerely and with meaning.

Having never viewed herself as beautiful, Trixie merely lifted her eyebrows. "Thanks," she answered dryly, not believing it for one second.

"I mean it," Di insisted fiercely. When Trixie grunted her next reply and stuck her tongue out, she laughed and held up her hands. "Okay, okay. I won't offer you anymore compliments, Trix, but I will say that I'm seriously impressed with you. You look beautiful and you have a really cool tattoo."

"And you are going to have a baby," Trixie remarked quietly, hoping against hope that she would be able to get Di off the subject of her tattoo. She really didn't wanted Di to bring it up or ask about the initials that adorned one of her stars.

"Yeah." Di dragged out the word on a deep, breathy sigh. She hooked an arm through Trixie and pulled her out. The thoughts of the tattoo were gone. "We need to let the others see you and get your dress fixed up. This is the first fitting for you."

In the spirit of the day, Trixie didn't offer the sarcastic response that was dying to get past her lips. Instead, she allowed Di to lead her beyond the screen and blushed again when Honey jumped up and down at the sight of her.

"Look at you, Trixie! I just knew gold would be a great color on you!" Honey declared, her smile as brilliant as the sun streaming through the curved glass at the top of the curtained windows. She sprinted over and threw her arms around Trixie and then Di. "You both look amazing!" Trixie rolled her eyes but hugged her back and went over to her part of the room where she obediently stood on her stool and let the ladies work their magic with the fabric of her dress.

"You realize, Madeleine, that your son is going to have a hard time keeping his eyes off of her," Marjory murmured quietly to Madeleine as they watched Trixie stand as still as she possibly could for the seamstresses. In all of the years she had worked as an employee for the family, Jim Frayne had never been able to look anywhere but at Trixie. The gold of the dress was going to make it impossible for him to look anywhere else.

Madeleine's eyes shone with absolute delight. "I'm counting on it," she replied, just as quietly but with a hint of approval in her voice. "Both Helen and I are hoping that they will finally open up their stubborn eyes and see what they've been missing for the past few years. It's high time for them to put their foolishness behind them and move on. We want them to do it together, too."

"Hopefully they will." Images of teenaged Trixie and Jim came back to her. All of the trips she had chaperoned, plus all of the wonderful times they had experienced right here in Sleepyside, were vibrant and alive to Marjory. It had been clear from almost the moment Jim had joined the Wheeler family and had officially become one of her charges that Jim and Trixie had special, reciprocated, and extremely deep feelings for one another. They belonged together. It went against the grain to not see them together. For that reason alone, Marjory agreed whole-heartedly with Madeleine. It would be wonderful if she had a third Bob-White wedding to plan in the near future.

Madeleine reluctantly laid the subject to rest, more than likely to be picked up at another time. Today was all about Honey. She walked over to her daughter and clasped her hands. "It's your turn now, darling," she murmured, eager herself to see what Honey looked like in her wedding gown, and brought her over to the screen to change.

Honey didn't need any more prodding. She swiftly disappeared from sight. Two seamstresses under the watchful eye of Miss Trask brought the wedding gown over to her. It was yards and yards of ivory satin, with sparkling beads and crystals embroidered on it. From her position on her stool, Trixie watched it all. It was clearly a dream coming true for Honey. She couldn't have been happier for her friend and endured the tugging, standing, and occasional pin-prick with a true and surprisingly patient smile; although she did admit to herself that if she ever got married, she wanted it to be without all of the fanfare. Nice and ultra-simple would undoubtedly fit her the best.

About ten minutes later, Madeleine reappeared from behind the screen. Everyone noticed. An expectant hush fell over the room while everyone stopped what they were doing and waited for the bride to come out. Biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely, and utterly failing, Honey came around front, an elegant vision in creamy ivory. The dress was simple in its design. It suited Honey, more than any over-the-top gown would ever have. Satin and lace, with crystals that shimmered when they caught the light and weren't nearly as radiant as the glow on Honey's face. The top was held up by two thin strings, one on each side. Each string was decorated with more beads and crystals. The bodice contoured to her front beautifully before being gathered at her slim waist and then falling in a rush of material before it met the floor. Wide petticoats underneath helped fluff out the skirt, making it into the lovely princess style of gown that it was. It was simple instead of ornate; classic over contemporary, and an absolutely perfect fit for Madeleine G. Wheeler.

Even Trixie, who admittedly had the least amount of fashion sense within the room, felt the magic of the moment. "Oh, Honey," she breathed out, feeling a sting of tears prick her eyes before she blinked them away. Her best friend was getting married. It got better because Honey was marrying her brother.

"See?" Di murmured quietly into Trixie's ear. "Do you see why Mart and I don't want to tell anyone yet? It's her day, Trix. It's got to be her day. It's too enchanting and special for it to be anyone else's." It was one of those moments when she wished that she had her husband's silver tongue. He would have been able to rattle off a list of impressive and truthful descriptors. She didn't have as strong of a repertoire and settled on, "It's everything to Honey."

"You're right. I think I do understand," Trixie mumbled back and watched as Honey lifted her skirts and, with a rustle of material, twirled around for them. Her heart filled with joy. She remembered the first look she had of Honey, all those years ago, and found it hard to believe that the vibrant, shining, happy woman in front of her was the same quiet, pale, too-thin girl who had moved into the Manor House. With her other best friend at her side, they sighed in tandem. Perfectly perfect.


	10. Chapter 10

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Ten

Tired from all the standing and turning, glad that she was given the okay to step down from her stool because she was finished, Trixie wandered around the large room, taking in the boisterous cycle of activity. Everyone was busy, chattering away and checking over the final details. Di's seamstresses were nearly done. She had been a much more agreeable pupil than Trixie, smiling and talking with the two workers assigned to her. Miss Trask and Mrs. Wheeler were fussing over Honey in her wedding gown, checking her over for anything that could be considered out of place. Honey accepted their perusal gracefully and indulgently. She was more than content to stand and look at herself in the mirror. Every once in a while she fluffed out her skirt like a four year-old playing dress-up. Trixie imagined accurately that Honey was also picturing in her mind how she would look in her veil, her jewelry and her bouquet. Needing something to occupy her mind besides pins, sizes, fabric, and chat about the wedding itself, Trixie walked to the farthest corner and, since it was safe to do so, brushed back a cream-colored curtain. The outside world beckoned her. It was bright and sunny, a picture perfect spring day, with only a hint of a breeze stirring the trees.

A flash of motion drew her attention. A dark purple sedan crested the steep hill and pulled to a stop next to the line of cars littering the driveway. She didn't have to see the person inside to know who was parking the vehicle. Turning back, watching the rest of the inhabitants finish up their fittings, she inched her way towards the door, and forgot that she was still dressed in her bridesmaid gown, without any shoes upon her feet. "I'll be back in a minute," she called out and got a careless wave from Honey, who was smoothing down the folds of her wide skirt and studying the simple, sparkling crystals that ran the length from waist to floor. Grinning, feeling like she had gotten away with something, and absolutely delighted to be fleeing the extremely feminine and yet absolutely wonderful scene, Trixie opened the door and slipped through it without a second thought.

On bare feet, she padded down the hallway and threw back the front door, right when her brother was starting up the path to the house. "Mart!" she called and then rushed onto the porch as fast as the long skirt of her dress would allow her to. She nearly tripped at the top of the step and grabbed the porch railing to help steady her. Pathetical grateful not to have tumbled down the steps and fallen at his feet, she consciously slowed her body down in her rush to get to him.

Mart came to a sudden halt. He let the ungraceful moment go, figuring he had something better to tease her about. He snapped on his sunglasses, which had been dangling from his fingers, bent his head, and looked away from her. "My God, Trix! I can't seem to stare straight at you without losing my sense of sight. The sunlight glinting off your dress is blinding me. Hell, Trixie, you're looking awfully...golden," he said with his devilish grin. Secretively he thought that she looked terrific but there was simply no way he could bring himself to say those exact words to her. "What happened to you? Did you run into King Midas?"

"Ha, ha." For old times' sake, Trixie stuck her tongue out at him. "You can't blame me on this one. Honey picked the color. And you can't complain about the dress, either, since your wife is wearing the exact same one." She approached him, picking her way carefully along the path. Because the small gravel of the path was poking the soft pads of her bare feet, she tugged his hand and brought him over onto the grass where she sighed in immediate appreciation. She curled her toes into the soft grass. Much better than rocks, she thought blissfully. Her bare feet poked out from under the skirt. She wondered why she had forgotten that she was shoeless.

Mart stared down at her feet and shook his head in sham disappointment. "Tsk. Tsk. A formal dress and no shoes to speak of. Goodness, Beatrix. You're going to be twenty-five years old next month. You would think that someone would have taught you how to dress by now." His voice rang out with brotherly despair.

Years ago, she would have become frustrated with him and snapped back. As she had grown older, she had learned that it was better, if not as much fun, if she didn't take the bait. "It's a new fashion statement," she replied with a cheeky grin. "It's all the rage now out on the West Coast. I'm certain it'll make it back East soon enough. Before you know it, Di, Honey and every other woman in Sleepyside will be doing the same thing."

He gave a loud bark of laughter, pleased with her response. Glancing around casually, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife, he hooked a thumb towards the door and wondered, "Where is everyone else?"

"Still inside. In the formal living room. It's the room with all of the curtains drawn on it, in case you were wondering. That's where we did our fittings today," Trixie added, delighted that they had a few uninterrupted minutes alone. "The seamstresses are almost finished with our active participation. Miss Trask and Mrs. Wheeler were gathered around Honey when I left. They were discussing the wedding gown and checking it over. Di's just about done, too. She's probably getting changed as we speak."

Mart stood on his tiptoes, almost as if the simple move could make his wife appear through the door. When she didn't, he released a disappointed sigh. He missed her. "I've come for Di. When will she be out?"

"Soon, I'm certain." Trixie looked at him innocently although there was a spark of humor to her knowing blue eyes that he missed in his preoccupation with his wife. "Di mentioned that she needed to leave early today but she didn't say where the two of you were going." She thought the little white lie was worth it. She pointedly didn't say anything else, merely waited to see how he would respond, uncertain if he would hem and haw an answer or completely overlook her question. Lying wasn't the best option for him. He wasn't the best of liars. His face always gave it away. Like most of the Beldens, he was too expressive.

As expected, Mart fumbled for a response. The urge to tell the news, to share it, especially with Trixie, especially when they were alone, was very strong but he couldn't, not without angering his wife. Di was adamant about waiting. As much as he would like to tell Trixie, he couldn't. His hands were tied. "It's my car," he finally concluded truthfully, if a little lamely. "We're picking it up from the shop. It's finally finished."

"Right. And you need Di to drive over with you," Trixie stated calmly. Teasing Mart wasn't an opportunity that afforded itself often. She couldn't give it up. Stifling a laugh, she put her hands on her hips, tapped a finger against her chin, and observed, "That seems a little suspicious to me. Never mind the fact that the shop is in town and any number of your work associates could have driven you over, if you really needed a ride." Then she slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, and you can't forget that the station is practically a hop, skip and a jump away from the auto shop. I haven't been away from Sleepyside for that long to forget the lay-out of the town, you know," she added smartly.

Sputtering for a response, trying to come up with any plausible excuse, Mart turned a bright, vibrant red. He with the golden tongue had absolutely nothing to say. When he got a long look at his sister's grinning face, his mouth hit the ground. "You know," he stated slowly, drawing the words out and blue eyes widening to twice their normal size. Bewildered, he demanded, "How the hell do you know?"

Trixie nodded her head, her smile the largest it had ever been. "It was the dress, Mart. Di's dress. There is just enough material in it to be altered for her. I overheard one of her seamstresses chastising her about the weight she's gained since the last fitting. Di tried to hide it from me but she couldn't. She knows that I know but no one else in there knows, if you follow what I mean. I'll respect your wishes, though. I won't tell anyone else. I promise." Then Trixie let out a loud, boisterous laugh and flung her arms around Mart, who lifted her up off her feet and swung her in a joyous circle. "I'm so happy for you two, Mart! Our first baby. Congratulations."

Our first baby. Any baby of a Bob-White would automatically become community property. It felt so damn good to share the news with someone else. The fact that it was Trixie only made it that much sweeter. He had never let on how much he missed her or how much he wished that she would uproot herself from San Diego and move back to Sleepyside. Mart stopped the spinning and laid his head on top of her rioting curls. "Thanks, Trix. We're pretty happy ourselves," he shared, his voice whisper-soft yet full of all the love and awe he felt for the unborn baby.

The simple gesture made her heart swell. While Mart could be the biggest pain in her entire world, he was also the one sibling she had the strongest of connections with. She couldn't have been happier for him. "Di wasn't able to say too much in there. She wants to keep it a secret a while longer. Like I said before, I promised not to tell anyone. I tried to convince her that no one would mind but I couldn't persuade her. After seeing Honey in her wedding gown, I can see why Di wants to wait," Trixie admitted with another little laugh. "Di had enough of a chance to let me know the baby is due in October, though."

"October. It's got to be a Belden tradition. The firstborn must be born in that month." Mart shook his head, chuckling at his observation. "We're going in for our three month visit today," he shared with a light to his eyes that seemed to be shining from somewhere deep inside him. It was much brighter than the sun and more brilliant than Trixie had ever seen before. "We get to hear the heartbeat again, have another ultrasound. It's going to be amazing. I can't wait."

"Will you find out if you're having a boy or girl?" Trixie wondered, amazed that Mart was only months away from becoming a parent. It was nearly unfathomable. Her brother was going to become a daddy. And, a tiny voice inside her reminded her, she wasn't going to be around to experience all of the joys and pitfalls of watching her little niece or nephew grow up. The realization made her frown, which she resolutely smoothed away.

"It's too early for that," he remarked, unaware of the train of thought that had momentarily derailed Trixie. "It's usually after the twentieth week that you can find that out. Even then, it's not always conclusive. The baby also has to cooperate. If he or she is turned the wrong way...well, it may have to remain a secret, whether the parents want it to be or not."

"You've been reading up on it," Trixie noted, her dimples winking in her cheeks. Leave it to Mart to become an expert on pregnancy. She could visualize the mountain of books at his house, waiting for him to start devouring them, and imagined that he must have visited every single prenatal website out there. She bet that he was probably close to knowing more about pregnancy than their obstetrician.

"Of course," Mart retorted with a proud toss of his head. "The day after we found out, I drove into White Plains and raided Barnes and Nobles. I surprised Di with all the literature when she got home from work. She was very impressed. We've got them all, Trix. Every single, fantastic one." He spread his hands out before him, excited and jubilant, and shared in a low, confidential voice, "Between you and me, I think I'm starting to drive Di a little crazy." He sent her a broad wink.

"Good for her. Di's finally seen the light," Trixie quipped back. Her cheerful chuckle mixed with his. She wrapped her arms around her waist, warming herself up when a light spring breeze blew by, but didn't make a move to head back to the warmth of the house. She wanted to stay with Mart. Pitching her voice low, she continued, "Since we're not going to have that many opportunities to discuss this before the wedding, I have to ask again. Will you find out? Pink or blue?"

"We're still talking about it. I'm in favor of leaving the very best of life's little surprises until the very last moment. Di, well…her mother didn't even realize she was having twins both times until she was in the delivery room. The ultrasound pictures never picked up on the other twin. One twin was always hiding behind the other. Go figure. Because of that, Di's not that big on surprises. I think she wants to know." He shrugged his shoulders, more than willing to give in if it would make his wife happy. "We'll see who wins out in the end."

Trixie couldn't help but grin. Somehow she knew that they would be finding out when they reached that magical mark for the ultrasound. She closed eyes, imagining the new baby Belden. Boy or girl; blonde or brunette; blue-eyed or violet…it didn't matter. The little one would be loved by one and all. "Well, I'm very happy for you, Mart. Couldn't be happier, in fact," she insisted and rocked back on her heels. Tongue-in-cheek, she added, "In fact, I hope he or she is exactly like you."

"Thanks. I…" Then he stopped while the true meaning of her words filtered in. "Trixie!" he exclaimed and gave her a not-so-gentle push.

Trixie stumbled back but caught herself before she fell on her bottom. "Mart Belden!" she admonished, shaking an accusing finger in his direction. "Honey would kill you if I fell and got grass stains on my dress!" She tried to frown at him but she simply couldn't. She was too happy. About to say something else, she saw another motion with her peripheral vision. Her amusement fled while she identified the person cutting across the lawn, a good twenty feet away from them. Tall, redhead, and coming out from the path that led to Ten Acres. Her body went a little stiff before she forced herself to relax. Truce, truce, truce, she kept saying inwardly, reminding herself of their agreement. They had a truce to maintain.

Mart stepped closer to her. He put a comforting, brotherly hand at her waist. "It'll be okay, Trix," he whispered into her ear.

"I know. I know. I told you last night at dinner that we've come to an understanding because of the wedding," she answered, grateful that he was willing to offer her support. He never let her down, not when push came to shove, but she was determined not to need it this time around. They were going to do better than merely muddle through. "Things won't be exactly easier but we actually had an entire conversation yesterday. That's ground-breaking for us. He told me about his plans to build his house up at Ten Acres. In fact, I bet that's where he's coming from."

Mart inclined his head to the side. He hadn't been aware that Jim was considering building his own house. The fact that his sister was the one to share it with him was a sign of definite progress. He gave her a squeeze and lifted a lazy hand when Jim headed in their direction. "Hey, Jim," he yelled out, wanting to thaw out any ice that may beginning to form. "It seems we're a little underdressed today. Only formal attire required."

"Oh, gleeps!" Trixie exclaimed, Mart's joke putting her at ease the exact way he had intended it to. Shoulders slumped, she stared down at her dress in comical dismay. Her hands gripped the skirt and pulled it out. Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced guiltily towards the house. "I forgot about my dress. I should probably be getting back inside."

Seeing her decked out in shiny, shimmery gold rated right up there as one of the best images he had ever had the good fortune to see. The only other color that would have been a better match was her favorite blue. With her glowing tan and her spiraling blonde curls framing her face, she looked gorgeous. Then he noticed her unpainted toenails peeping out from under the skirt. Only Trixie would be running around in a formal gown and bare feet. Afraid he had been staring too long, and more than grateful for Mart's presence, he cleared his throat and said, hoping he didn't sound like an idiot, "That's right. It's fitting day today. Is it going well?"

"My dress is done," she said with a little laugh that was almost normal-sounding. "I just forgot to hang it up." Her lips curled up, a little hesitatingly but with more warmth than she usually displayed around Jim, and her gaze actually stayed on his for the entire time they were talking.

A keen observer, Mart watched the by-play between the two with interest. Certainly not even or easy, but they were clearly making headway. It was already better than her return home on Sunday. Even more unbelievable, they were actually looking at each other. Not only were they looking but they were talking. Despite Jim's best attempt to keep his face even, Mart couldn't help but see the spark of interest in his eyes or the valiant way he was trying not to look Trixie up and down while they were watching him. Mart nodded his head, thought that he would have a good report to share with any inquiring minds who wanted to know, starting with his wife, and pointed towards the window. Two familiar heads were waving their hands out the window. "You're being paged, Trix," he informed her helpfully.

She whirled around. The material of the skirt followed her movements, its motion as fluid and simple as water. She didn't notice the way it drew Jim's eyes or that he was having a lot of trouble trying to look somewhere else. "You're right. There's Honey. It looks like she wants me to come back inside. But I'm not the only one being paged, Mart. I think Di's ready for you."

When Jim finally brought his gaze upwards from her skirt, he got his first look at her back and nearly perished from the tantalizing sight. A strap of skimpy material encircled her neck. Her upper back and shoulders were completely bare. His fingers practically demanded to reach out and touch the large amount of skin that was revealed to him. The sight made him either want to gouge his eyes out, stare at her like a love-struck teenager, or drown in a pool of the sudden desire that began to pour through his blood. He didn't know whether to brain Honey or bless her for the choice in bridesmaid dresses. In his opinion, she couldn't have picked a better one to complement Trixie's figure and coloring. He did know that he was extremely grateful for a sneak peek of his partner in all of her wedding finery. At least he wouldn't be blindsided on Saturday by her beauty. It was only Tuesday. He had a few days available for him to regain the use of his brain for the next time she stood before him in that damning dress.

"You're right, Trix. My fair lady is waving both of us on," Mart agreed cheerfully. "Let's return you to the fold." He grabbed her elbow and, since he realized Jim didn't seem capable of speech at the moment, tugged her towards the stairs. Trying not to laugh, he inquired, well aware of the fact that Jim probably wouldn't have a clue what he was asking him, "Where were you coming from again, Jim? Did you go for a walk in the woods?"

Jim took up the rear, his eyes devouring the exposed skin of her back. His hands were tight fisted balls at his sides. The question jolted him out of his preoccupation. His name had registered but he hadn't heard a single other word. "What?" he barked out, louder than necessary, and earned him a patronizingly placating glance from Mart and a clearly confused one from Trixie.

Mart's lips twitched, delighted that he had caught Jim in the process of ogling his sister. More progress than he expected, he realized with a start, and filed it away for further evaluation. It would be quite the topic of an interesting conversation on the way in to doctor's office. Di would find it as amusing as he did. "I'll keep it simple for you. This is what I was asking. Where…did…you…come…from?" he voiced again, intentionally leaving a large amount of time in-between words.

Hand on the door handle, Trixie frowned with flagrant disapproval at her brother, having missed out entirely on Jim's preoccupation with her. Then she tossed a look over her shoulder at Jim and offered him an apology, "We tried to teach him better manners, Jim. We really did. They just never took."

She made him laugh. For one brief, shining moment their eyes met, held, and shared more than a spark of their former relationship. Contentment and comfort. Humor and happiness. It was so close, so almost close enough for him to touch or feel or even taste it. His mouth lifted at the corners and he took an automatic step towards her before he paused, unsure what he wanted to do next, of what he should do next.

"Too funny, my dear Beatrix." Mart used her hated full name and, to add insult to injury, chucked her under the chin with an easy fist. He laughed when she narrowed her eyes at him. Before she could verbally, or physically, retaliate, he slanted a glance towards Jim and brought him back into the conversation. "Jim still hasn't answered my question, has he?"

He willed his heart to go back to its normal rate. For some reason it had started to race. Jim rubbed a hand over the internal organ and focused on the question at hand. It was more difficult than he thought it would be, with Trixie standing before him. "I was up at Ten Acres," he replied, after recalling what, exactly, Mart had asked him. "My contractor called me back late yesterday afternoon and offered to come out today to look over the building site. He wanted to get a good visual on what we're going to be doing up there. We're putting the final touches on the plans. Once all of the permits have been approved, we'll be ready to start breaking ground."

"You're building your house?" Mart inquired. He lifted his eyebrows and acted surprised even though Trixie had told him that exact same thing a few minutes ago.

Jim nodded his head curtly. It took all he had within him to focus on Mart and not stare at Trixie. "The hope is to have the house up and finished by the middle of September. My contractor thinks that it is an entirely feasible possibility."

"How about that? Another Bob-White is coming home to roost." Mart gave a small chuckle at his witty rejoinder. He nudged Trixie with his elbow. "That only leaves you and Dan, squaw. Any plans for you to move back home?" The question was light but his eyes were serious. With the new baby along the way, there wasn't anything he'd like more than Trixie coming home. Permanently.

In her deepest thoughts, in the darkest corner of her heart, she contemplated such a move. It was definitely tempting. She missed home more than she ever admitted to anyone, even to herself. While Trixie wanted to give her brother a sarcastic reply for daring to bring up such a subject in front of Jim, she held back the strong urge and answered simply, "You never know." Unmindful of the look of surprise on her brother's face, she opened the front door and closed the subject, "Are you coming in?"

"No. I'll wait for Diana out here." Puzzled, Mart mulled over her answer and wondered at what it meant. Having Trixie home, in Sleepyside, would be...great. It was certainly food for thought. With his mind full of the possibility, he took up residence against the porch railing and crossed his arms.

"All right, Mart. I'll send her out when she's done. It shouldn't take her that long. She's probably already dressed in her regular clothes." She gingerly picked up her skirt between her thumbs and index fingers and spread it out. "I can't wait to get out of mine!" She slid one more look their way. Her eyes laid a smidgeon longer on Jim before she went through the front door. It closed behind her with a definite click.

Mart focused his attention on the closed front door. He waited a long minute to see if Jim would say anything. When his friend seemed content to stand on the top step and stare at the front door as if he had never seen it before, Mart correctly guessed what Jim was thinking about. Since the two of them were on the best terms they had been on since Jim and Trixie had broken up, Mart decided to open the discussion. "You know," he began idly, tapping a foot against the painted floorboards in deceptive negligence, "you couldn't have been more obvious out here, Jim." He nodded in the direction of the front yard.

He was still staring at the front door, imagining Trixie inside. She would be getting ready to take off that gorgeous gown. She had just told them that. He almost thought that if he focused hard enough he could hear it unzipping, even though there was the thick wall of the house, a good amount of insulation, a main hall and a short walk to the formal living room residing between them. Since he couldn't hear it, he let his imagination take over. The smooth material would slide down her body, most likely carelessly since he doubted if she would take her time with the dress, and would make a golden pool at her feet…her bare feet, he added. And then, she would be standing there, gloriously… A bark of laughter brought him out of his reverie. "Huh?" he responded, shaking his head. He had forgotten all about Mart.

Mart studied him so closely, so knowingly, that Jim turned red and almost squirmed. "How the hell have you managed to hide this from us for the past seven years? I can't believe it. You've never gotten over her. Have you?" Mart inquired with an awed tone to his voice. He hadn't ever fully realized it before. He ran through what he knew about Jim, in the post-Trixie years. Schooling, schooling, and more schooling. Work for his father. A few dates here and there but never anything serious and certainly never anyone who ever made it home to Sleepyside to meet the family or the Bob-Whites. That information only came out second-hand, usually through Honey. Jim was remarkably tightlipped about his social life, meager though it was.

Jim's glare served as his only answer. It should have reduced Mart to a pile of ashes. The fact that Mart was speaking the truth didn't allow him any form of defense. Hiding behind a lie wasn't in his nature. Wanting to get away, needing to get away, he stalked over to the door but was brought to a halt by Mart.

"Come on, Jim. There's no need to get huffy or anything. I'm only stating the obvious. If you want, you can stay and keep me company while I wait for my wife." Mart lifted his eyebrows innocently. The challenge was offered. The glove was thrown. He waited to see if Jim would accept it or not. He had never known Jim Frayne to back down from a challenge and he waited with bated anticipation for his response.

Jim grumbled under his breath, long, low and definitely not excited. There were a few uglier words he wouldn't have used in the presence of many. But he would be branded a coward in Mart's eyes if he were to enter the house. He knew it. Even though the front door beckoned him, he turned his back on it and took three large steps over towards Mart, finally settling himself against the porch railing. He kept a good amount of distance between him and Mart, and he did it all without saying a single word.

Jim didn't need to say anything for Mart to know that he was annoyed. Because of that, and because it was much too fun to poke fun at the sulking redhead, Mart nodded approvingly and congratulated him, "Good choice." He leaned back against the railing, wrapped a hand around the porch post, and shared, "If I hadn't known that you've never gotten over Trixie, the fact that your tongue has been lolling out of your mouth ever since you saw her in her bridesmaid dress would have clued me in."

"Shut up, Mart," Jim ordered him lowly, eyes glaring out of thin green slits. A dangerous scowl descended across his face, promising retribution at the earliest possible moment. It was clearer than the finest of crystal that he wanted an end to the conversation. The sooner, the better. "I don't want to talk about it."

Mart, being Mart, started to whistle cheerfully and sailed on, as if he hadn't heard Jim, although he most certainly had. "I'm not going to share my thoughts on my sister. She's, well…she's my sister so we'll have to leave it at that. But you couldn't take your eyes off of her, Frayne, no matter how hard you try to convince me, or yourself, that you couldn't." His smile was one of pure unconcealed glee. "I saw it."

"Ohh," a new voice inserted into the conversation, directly below them on the lawn. A few long, swift steps, a bound up the stairs, and their newest member was sidling up next to the railing, making them a trio, and grinning. "This sounds like a very interesting conversation. I see you're braving the taboo subject, Mart. Good for you!" Dan clapped his best friend on the shoulder and, with a cunning grin that had Jim groaning, edged a hip along the railing, obviously prepared to stay for the duration of what promised to be an fascinating and entertaining couple of minutes.

Jim blew out a frustrated breath and stared up at the ceiling. Suddenly heading inside didn't seem like such a bad idea even if it was cowardly and spineless. He now had two annoying and irritating Bob-Whites breathing down his neck. Worse, one of them had witnessed a tiny, practically meaningless indiscretion of his. He didn't know who he should swear more viciously at: Mart or that damn golden dress. "Why me?" he grumbled rhetorically.

Dan couldn't help it. He laughed. There was nothing quite like seeing cool, confident, and composed Jim Frayne out of balance. He brushed a piece of nonexistent lint off of the sleeve of his dark blue Henley and posed the question at large, "What have I missed so far?"

"Not much," Jim grouched, not an ounce of good humor left on his face. It was coming. He could feel it. Ducking his head, he began to trace idle circles on the railing. Anything was better than staring at the two grinning faces on the idiots gloating in front of him. It sucked that he was going to get it from both barrels. Any moment now.

"Not much, he says." Mart shook his head, disappointed in Jim's answer, and pointed accusingly at him. "As our resident dictionary, allow me to interpret Jim's rather pitiful phrase for you, Dan. 'Not much' in this case really means a whole lot."

"Thank you, oh wise one." Dan couldn't help but appreciate the moment. Jim looked as uncomfortable as he could get, kind of like an insect that was pinned to a board. Finding out what happened to put him in such a state promised to be the most fun he had had in a long time. With Mart acting as his partner in crime, the experience couldn't get any better. "I wouldn't have been able to figure that one out without your assistance."

Mart bowed to Dan, choosing to overlook the sarcasm, and completely ignored the fact that Jim looked as if he wanted to toss both of them over the railing at any possible moment. "I'll start at the beginning, Mangan. It wasn't a long meeting by any stretch of the imagination. We all know that the inhabitants here in Sleepyside tend to have very strong and very active imaginations but that's beside the point." Enjoying the moment, he added, "You see, Dan, I witnessed something earlier. It was fleeting and didn't last all that long but I think it was very important. Now I'm merely attempting to prod something out of our friend here."

"About damn time," Dan muttered under his breath, having a pretty good idea that the 'something' involved a neighboring blonde of the feminine variety. He crossed his ankles, posed negligently against the railing, and faced Jim. He decided that the poor sap had two options. Jim could either 'fess up or suffer through their interrogation. He decided to give him a chance first. "So, are you going to tell me or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

Jim suddenly found the ceiling extremely interesting. After thoughtfully counting the many different nails that had gone into the spot directly above him, he replied, knowing that neither of them would let him get away with the pitiful amount of information he wanted to share with them, "We've got a little truce going on," Jim mumbled lowly, neither agreeing, contradicting or adding to any of Mart's statements.

"Really?" Dan's eyes flared with interest. Since he had spent the past evening with Mr. Maypenny and his uncle at the cabin in the woods, he hadn't attended the dinner at Mart's house the night before and also hadn't talked to any of the other Bob-Whites. A truce between Jim and Trixie sounded promising. He deliberated the matter, quickly came to the conclusion that wasn't the entire story. "But that can't be all. Can it?"

"Our good buddy Jim here suggested it," Mart supplied helpfully. This time Jim did squirm. "Trixie told me about it last night when she came over for dinner. She was rather nonchalant over the whole escapade but I think she's secretly relieved." Reaching across, he gave a playful punch to Jim's shoulder. "She smiled when she told me."

"You probably interrogated her," Dan broke in knowingly, trying not to chuckle at the brightening flush spreading its way across Jim's face. He thought it wouldn't be too long before Jim's face was as red as his hair.

"Heh." Mart raised his shoulders, tried to pull off innocent and failed miserably. "Interrogation, interview, a friendly question and answer period between siblings. Really, what is the difference? I found out what I wanted to find out and she didn't kill me, much like I think our silent companion over here would like to do right now." He aimed a large, toothy grin towards Jim, who was glowering in his direction. It was easy to see that Jim was planning out many different and satisfying ways of maiming him.

"Got that right," Jim grumbled under his breath, eyes slitted and glowing a bright, vivid emerald.

"Can't do that!" Dan exclaimed, enjoying the moment more than he had ever thought possible. Jim was never an easy one to tease. The fact that they were teasing him about Trixie, of all people, made it that much sweeter. "It may make things a little more peaceful around here but Di wouldn't like it, Jim. I really wouldn't recommend it. There's also the fact that I work in law enforcement. It would be a shame to have a DEA agent testify against you at your trial, Jim. I wouldn't be able to lie, either. It would most likely be the nail in your figurative coffin."

Jim didn't waste a minute before tossing back, "Murder may not be the way to go but there's nothing wrong with imagining it." Normally, he would have enjoyed the banter if he wasn't the one enduring the brunt of it.

"We're forgetting the point, Mangan," Mart broke in. "Let's try and stay on task, all right? I doubt if your supervisors would appreciate it if you continued to interrupt an important briefing or whatever you call your meetings."

"I hate to agree with you, Belden, and I definitely don't want to inflate your ego anymore than it already is, but you're right," Dan agreed immediately. He ran a hand over his dark black hair. "We need to stay focused. I do believe there was a mention of a truce?"

"Yes. A truce we have." Mart leaned forward, closing the space between him and Dan, and said in a loud stage whisper, "In case you haven't figured it out already, it's between our co-presidents."

"Thank you for clearing that up. It makes the most sense. After all, they are the only ones who haven't been on the best of speaking terms for a while now. But there has to be more than just a mere truce," Dan broke in, pointing to the silent one in their triumvirate. "Jim here wouldn't be glowering at you if there wasn't, Mart. He also wouldn't be wishing you dead, either. So, that leads us back to the beginning. What happened?"

Knowing he was trapped, well aware that they would only hound him if he decided to stomp away from them, Jim threw his hands in the air and gave up. He rested against the porch, knew the flush on his cheeks would only get worse before it got better, and decided that the dress was the one at fault. How was he not to react to her in it? he asked himself. He hadn't had any defenses built up, had absolutely no idea that she would look like some kind of a pagan goddess to the sun in it. His sigh was deep, frustrated, and annoyed. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he couldn't decide if he wanted to feel the emotions he was experiencing or if he would have been better off without them.

The sigh drew Mart's attention. He swung his head around and said directly to Jim, "I haven't finished with the truce portion of our discussion yet. Seriously, I think it's going to be good for both of you. It'll make things a lot easier on Brian and Honey, as well as on you and Trixie, also." Mart nodded his head sagely in appreciation. "Plus we won't have that god-awful moment when we first gather together. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Jim? Dan? No one can miss it but, just in case you don't know what I'm talking about, I'll be glad to explain it. It's that first time when the two of you get together. Every single time. We find it kind of old and a bit uncomfortable, too. Don't we, Dan?"

"It would be nice to see the end of that." Dan gave an exaggerated shudder, telling them plainly how much he enjoyed those many shared and unforgettable experiences. "You forgot to add in unpleasant, Mart," he confided in an aside.

Jim couldn't get angry without feeling like the biggest hypocrite ever. After all, Mart wasn't saying anything that wasn't completely and one hundred percent true. It just plain sucked that he didn't have any kind of opportunity to defend himself. That truce idea, while certainly a necessary one, was turning into the dumbest idea he had ever had. Not because of Trixie but because of the rest of the idiots he had the privilege of calling friends. He hadn't predicted what some of the other Bob-Whites would do with the knowledge once they found out but he should have. Mart and Dan were having a field day with it. At least he could count on the others to go easier on him. He sincerely doubted if Honey, Di or Brian would demand a pound of flesh from him in the form of unending teasing.

"We've gotten seriously off track here, Dan. Again. The truce isn't the only thing you need to know about," Mart said, choosing to overlook Jim's lack of response. It was expected. He wasn't offended by it in the least.

"I know there has to be something else." Dan patted his thighs, preparing himself for what was to come next. The smile he aimed at Jim was lethal, as was the glint of dark delight in his eyes. It was about time that there was a crack in one of them. He only hoped that the crack wouldn't be able to be fixed, would continue to grow and flourish until the walls that had been built came tumbling down. "Let's hear it, Mart."

"Trixie came out to see me right after I parked Di's car. You know Trix. She probably couldn't stand being cooped up in the that room any longer." He closed his eyes, recalling how Di had complained about Trixie during the fitting for the bridesmaid's dresses for their wedding. His sister was not the most patient person in the world. Sitting or standing, she couldn't do either for very long without wanting to do something else.

"Ah. Right. It's the final fitting for the dresses." Elbows on the railing, Dan contemplated the morning. His predictions were stunningly accurate. "Knowing Honey, she was probably in seventh heaven because she couldn't wait to try on her dress again. She probably had to be coerced into taking it off. Di would have enjoyed it, too, since she loves to get dressed up. But let's face it. Trixie has never been a big fan of extremely girly things. She was probably looking for any reason to get out of that room."

"Well, she came straight out to greet me. She's in charge of letting my wife know that I'm here, you know," Mart added, keeping one eye on the front door. So far it was still closed. Since he was expecting Di any moment, he decided to hurry things along. "But I'm digressing here. As I said, she came straight out, all dressed up in her fancy bridesmaid dress, I might add."

Jim wasn't paying the two of them the least bit of attention. He suddenly found the floor extremely interesting. Like he had counted the heads of the nails above, he began counting the floorboards below. He knew what was coming next. It didn't help his cause any that he could remember perfectly how she had looked in her dress or how much he had wanted to feel it against her skin. Damn, damn and triple damn, he thought with a deepening, unpleasant scowl.

From the look on Mart's face, Dan realized that whatever had happened had been good. Not only that but it had amused his friend to no end. "Is it a nice dress?" he asked when it seemed like Mart wanted him to say something.

"I don't really know," Mart replied with a shrug. "I mean, it's a dress but it was on my sister, for crying out loud. I didn't take much notice of it, if you know what I mean, other than to see that it was gold. We'll have to ask Jim here if he thought it was nice. He'll give us a better opinion than a brother." He turned innocently towards his friend, who didn't lift his head up from the floor.

When Jim didn't take the hint, Dan kicked him in the shin, causing him to finally break his untimely preoccupation with the floor and glare at him. "Nice or not?" Dan inquired, itching to laugh when he got a look at the frustrated expression on Jim's face. It was rare for him to exhibit any emotion when talk turned to Trixie. He had always preferred hiding behind that horrible impenetrable wall. Dan took it as a good sign that Jim was more open than normal. He took it as an even better sign that Mart was teasing him about it.

"Nice," Jim growled out lowly, unwilling to say anything more. Many other superlatives came to mind, all true and all better than a mere 'nice', but, if he had chosen to use any of them, the two men before him would have eaten him alive. He wasn't giving them that chance. 'Nice' would have to suffice.

"All the man can say is nice," Mart repeated incredulously, shaking his head and then chortling with glee. "He couldn't stop looking at her. I had to get his attention a few times because he was so affected by my sister. He's not sharing how he really thought she looked. Why he thought she looked like that is beyond me. I'll admit that she looked better than normal but that's about as far as I'm willing to go."

She must have been stunning to have caused that crack in Jim's stony foundation. It was on the tip of Dan's tongue to quip something back to Mart about Jim being unable to resist Trixie in a fancy dress but he caught himself in time. It wouldn't be right to bring up her prom and what he suspected happened afterwards. Jim would find it highly embarrassing and Mart, if he figured it out…Dan decided it was safer all around not to go there. Mart would be better off believing his sister and Jim never progressed that far in their relationship. "I guess I'll have to wait until Saturday," Dan bemoaned with sham disappointment. "I'll give you my opinion then."

Jim trailed his hand along the smooth railing of the porch, still unwilling to meet either of their all-too-knowing gazes. They had poked enough holes at what he perceived to be a weakness of his. He wasn't willing to wait for more. "Are you finished yet?" he asked sarcastically when the silence stretched on for a few blissful seconds.

Mart considered the question from all angles. Taking an exorbitant amount of time before he answered, he finally came out with, "Yeah. I think I am."

"Smart ass," Dan threw his way, just because he felt like calling spade a spade. Secretly, he was congratulating Mart. Mart had to be the only one out of all of them who could have teased Jim so unmercifully about Trixie without causing the redhead to leave in a fit of temper. The two had created a different type of camaraderie than they used to have, starting right after they had settled their own differences with Trixie's decision to move out to California.

About to give a not-so-very flattering assessment of Dan's character, Mart was interrupted by the opening of the front door opened. Dressed in eye-catching purple, Di breezed out. She approached the trio of gentlemen with a warm smile on her face. "Hello, guys," she greeted them happily. "Isn't it lovely to have not one, not two, but three handsome men out here waiting for me?"

Mart immediately lost his teasing posture. Looking like the besotted husband that he was, he left his post and immediately went to stand by her. He took her hand protectively in his and walked her over to the front stairs. "That's one handsome man," he corrected her with a wink at the other two and nuzzled her head with his chin.

Because it would have been childish and Jim didn't want to give Mart any more ammunition than he already had, he wisely kept his mouth shut and didn't make a crack about the fact that Mart was most definitely whipped. "Where are you two going?" he questioned instead, pathetically grateful to have the conversation turned onto something else beside him and Trixie.

"We're heading into town," Di explained, wondering why there was an odd vibe around the three. It seemed to be centered on…Jim, she decided after correctly reading his flushed face and Mart and Dan's humorous ones. She shook her head and came to the conclusion that she would have to weasel it out of Mart on the ride into Sleepyside. She knew how to get almost anything out of him. It wouldn't take too long before he told her everything. Because there was a light at the end of her tunnel, she overlooked it and said, "We're picking up Mart's car from the shop."

"You don't have to leave, Di. I'll be glad to drive Mart in," Dan immediately offered, thinking that she would like to stay with the girls and do whatever it was that needed done before the wedding.

"Oh, no, Dan. It's okay. I don't mind," Di declined the offer as graciously as possible, doing her best to ignore the flush that was heating her face. Before Dan could make the offer again, which would only result in her having to refuse it again, she turned to her husband and suggested, "We should probably get going, Mart. I think the shop said that the car would be ready at eleven-thirty." Her ears turned pink with the lie. They had their doctor's appointment at eleven-thirty.

He understood. Di was a terrible secret-keeper. Soothingly, he caressed her back and led her towards the steps, away from the others. Lucky for him, Jim still hadn't recovered from their earlier conversation. And Dan was still too amused to look any farther into Di's odd reaction. "Let's go, Di. See you around, boys."

"You don't have to say it," Dan whispered under his breath as he waved back to the departing duo. Eyebrows lifted while Mart held onto her elbow and carefully led her over the small gravel of the path, treating her as if she was made of fragile china.

The same thought was swirling through his mind. "I completely agree with you," Jim said just as quietly back, low so that the wind wouldn't carry his words back to Mart and Di.

"Mart is so whipped." Deep chortles started low and came out. It startled the pair who had reached their car. They threw puzzled looks his way but Dan waved them off. Turning back, he shook his head at Jim and said, "Brian is just as bad about Honey. Sometimes I feel like I've gone into sugar shock if I spend too much time alone with either of our Bob-White couples."

"Tell me about it. It'll only get worse once they have children, too." Jim gave a small laugh, picturing the mini-versions that would most likely come from the two sets of couples. "My mother is already starting to murmur about grandchildren. I've heard her discussing it with my father. I don't think she's mentioned it to Honey yet. She's probably waiting until after they return home from their honeymoon."

"Little Bob-Whites." Dan muttered it under his breath, having never considered the possibility before of having tiny Bob-White babies crawling around Sleepyside. He didn't know if he should be touched or scared. "That's hard to believe. Can you imagine what the spawn of Mart will be like?"

"At least the baby will have a fighting chance," Jim retorted, chuckling. "He or she will have half of Di's genes to help balance Mart's out."

Dan shivered, imagining the possibilities. Then he turned more serious, recalling the conversation they had before Mart left. "All teasing aside, are things going better for you and Trixie?" Dan said while he watched Mart open the passenger door for Di and usher her inside the car. He closed it and then skirted around the hood to the driver's side. Dan waved yet again when the car drove past them. From the amused look on Di's face, he correctly inferred that Mart was already telling her the story.

"Dan…" Jim warned, having had more than enough of the subject already.

Laughing, Dan put up his hands, palms out, and stepped back. "Okay, okay. I'll give it up. This time. You've been harassed enough as it is." His laughter picked up in volume when the front door opened again and their favorite subject of the moment came back out onto the porch. He had to hold his sides because they were aching. Talk about perfect timing, he thought, appreciating the moment.

Startled by their presence, Trixie came to a stop and stared at the two men in front of her. She wondered why Dan was laughing uproariously and at the flush that started across Jim's face. Lifting her shoulders, she didn't question them. A quick glance to the driveway showed her that Mart and Di had already left for their doctor's appointment.

It was tough but Dan eventually got his laughter under control. "You're looking a little underdressed from what I expected to see," he declared, studying her from head to toe. There was nothing formal about her clothes now.

On the other side, Jim was mentally shaking his head, wondering how the hell he had gotten so lucky to have been put in such a position…again. Switching Mart for Dan wasn't an improvement. Dan could be as irritating as Mart; sometimes even more so. He kept his face as inscrutable as he could and prayed that he had something that could pass for a smile on his face. It was difficult, especially knowing that Dan would be watching him like a hawk.

Left with no other option, Trixie came over towards them and lowered herself onto a white wicker chair, a good five feet away from where Jim rested. Her chuckle was tinged with nerves. She pressed her hands against her thighs and rolled her eyes at Dan's joke. "I had to take the dress off, Dan. The seamstresses are going to work on it right now. I think they're hoping to have the alterations finished before they leave today. They brought everything they need to work on the dresses here. I'm sure Honey could give you a dissertation on what they are going to do with all of the dresses but I wasn't paying close attention when she told us."

Dan offered a small sound and then went silent, more than content to let Trixie and Jim flounder their way through. Jim caught on first. He narrowed his eyes at Dan and broke the silence with an undemanding topic, "Mart and Di left a few minutes ago."

"That's right. They have to pick up his car from the shop." Trixie ducked her head as she rested against the thin cushion, hiding her tiny, secret smile, and worked hard to keep the news from slipping past her lips. For some reason it was much easier to keep a secret in her line of work. When it was something related to her family or the Bob-Whites, it was much harder. She plucked at the hole in her jeans. "Di told me that earlier. She's going with him to help him out."

"I offered to take Mart in her place but she didn't accept it," Dan shared since the two had made one successful volley in their conversation, without any help from him.

"Mart told me last night that he's had a lot of problems with his car. Hopefully they've all been fixed." Trixie curled her legs up underneath her and felt a lot more comfortable. She smiled easily at Dan and even turned the same smile on Jim. About to say something else, she felt her cell phone vibrate and pulled it out of her pocket. Frowning, she stared down at the new text message, noted it was another one from Max. No emergency code accompanied it. Aware that she had two pairs of eyes watching her, she smoothed away the puzzled lines on her forehead and turned her cell off. This week was all about home.

Jim noticed the frown. "Anything wrong?"

Startled, she lifted blue eyes up, collided with his interested green ones, and completely forgot about Dan, only a few feet away. "Oh, no," she answered with a little laugh. "Just a text message from another P.I. It's not anything serious. I'm only…"

"Curious," Jim finished for her.

"Exactly." Trixie chuckled a little and slipped the phone into her back pocket. "Nothing to worry about, though. I'll take care of it later." She was already mentally composing a text message in her mind since she couldn't avoid two texts from Max but she was determined not to let it affect her vacation home.

Dan was as curious as Trixie but he didn't join in the conversation. They were moving forward. It had taken a few years, a whole lot of heartache and much worry on the part of their friends, but they seemed to finally be starting down a good path. Nodding his head, he sat back and settled into his role as an observer.

Wearing her regular clothes but still beaming from the gorgeous ivory gown that had recently graced her body, Honey poked her head out of the door. "Oh! There you are, Trixie!" she said gaily and smiled at the other members. "I was looking for you everywhere. And you managed to find Jim and Dan, too." Thinking now would be a good time to witness the truce in action, she invited everyone in for lunch. "Come along, everyone. Lunch is just about ready."

Trixie stood up from her chair. She kept the same smile on her face as Jim walked past her. He gave her a fleeting one before following Honey into the house. She waited until very last and ended up behind Dan, who grabbed her elbow and kept her from entering. "What?" she asked, irritated when he wouldn't let her in.

His smile was slow and satisfied. Whether she needed a pep talk or not, she was going to get one from him. "I wanted to congratulate you, Trix," he whispered quietly. "You and Jim are doing a good thing here. It'll mean a lot to Brian and Honey."

She wanted to ask him how he already knew about their truce but decided she didn't really need to. She shouldn't have been surprised. Someone would have told him by now. Enough of their friends knew about it. Not grilling him on the identity of the person who told on them, Trixie settled on a simple, "Thank you. Do you think it could count as their wedding present?" she asked cheekily.

Dan's laughter boomed out. Delighted with Trixie for making a joke of it, firmly believing she was finally becoming her normal, effervescent self she had always been around _all_ of them, he draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into the house. Their steps matched perfectly on the way to the dining room. "Somehow, Hollywood, I don't think a truce is going to cut it. It's great but I know Honey and Brian will want something more."

Their laughter mingled together and announced their arrival. Honey stood in the hallway, waiting for them to come into the dining room. "What took you so long? We're eating in here, guys! Mother and Miss Trask are going over to the country club for lunch. I think they want to discuss the wedding some more. We were invited to go along, Trixie, but I thought it would be much easier and more relaxed if we ate here instead."

A lunch at the country club or a lunch with Jim? Neither qualified as easy or relaxed but Trixie accepted her situation much better than she would have a few days ago. "Thanks, Honey. I appreciate it. I would much rather eat here than at the country club." She gestured towards her clothes. Frayed blue jeans and a simple yellow shirt. Definitely not country club attire, she thought and quirked an eyebrow. "You made an excellent choice."

Honey slipped an arm through hers and dragged her into the room. She sat down on a chair and pulled Trixie into the one next to her. Dan and Jim had taken the seats directly across from them, which Honey figured was a good thing for Trixie and Jim's comfort level. They were close but not too close. A bowl of delicious grilled chicken salad sat in the center of the table, as well as different types of salad dressing. There was also a platter of various sandwiches, waiting to tempt them, too.

Jim was resisting the urge to stare at Trixie. It was with a rueful and self-deprecating look to his eyes when the realization hit him. It wasn't the dress that had drawn his attention outside. It was her. He couldn't decide which he would rather have had it been. Frustrated, he stabbed a piece of his grilled chicken with more force than necessary and glared at Dan when he heard the low, amused chuckle. "It's nice to know that you find the situation so amusing," he mumbled lowly so that only Dan could hear him. "It does my heart good; really, it does."

Dan's lips curved upwards. His dark eyes twinkled merrily. "Just think, Jim. It's only Tuesday. We still have Wednesday, Thursday and Friday to get through until Saturday and the wedding rolls around." The possibilities, all the fun, entertaining and amusing possibilities, were limitless. It promised to be more enjoyable than he had ever thought possible. "In my opinion, it's only going to get better."

Tuesday. Good Lord, it was only Tuesday. Jim squeezed his eyes shut. The entire week spread out before him. A good portion of it would be spent with the Bob-Whites. With the truce smoothing the way, he knew that it was going to get even tougher for him. His free hand balled into a fist under the table. It was only an added treat to have his friends understand what was going on. When Trixie giggled at something Honey shared with her, he couldn't help but look directly at her. Lovely smile, sparkling eyes, pretty rosy cheeks. His teeth gritted together in response. Yeah. It promised to be a week filled with torture the likes of which he had never known.

After pouring a generous amount of dressing on his salad, trying not to chuckle at Jim who was doing his best not to stare overly long at the animated blonde, Dan offered it across the table to Trixie. The conversation wasn't going too bad. It actually felt like all four of them were getting along pretty well. Since the mood was much more congenial than he had expected, Dan cautiously brought up something that had been bothering him about Trixie since she had arrived early on Sunday evening. "Tell us a little bit about yourself, Trix. I couldn't help but notice that you seemed extra tired or something when you came home on Sunday."

Fork suspended in the air, she lifted her head, met his concerned look with an incredulous one of her own, and damned herself for not hiding it any better. With three pairs of interested eyes staring at her, one obsidian, one topaz, and one the color of emeralds, she swallowed a sigh and laid her fork down with perfect precision. She could brazen it out but that would only frustrate the others and make them more determined than ever to get to the heart of the matter. She could lie, as she had done in the past, if she could pull it off with Jim across the table. She had never been able to lie that convincingly in front of him. Or she could offer them part of the truth. Not the whole truth, since she was honor-bound herself to never discuss her job with anyone outside of the agency. Because sharing part of it may help, she went with the only option that appealed to her. Carefully, guarding her words so that she didn't say something she wasn't allowed to, she shared quietly, "One of our investigators met with an accident last week, Dan. I guess it was bothering me more than I thought."

"Oh!" Honey's eyebrows shot up. Her fork cluttered to her plate. She hadn't even realized something was off with Trixie, other than the normal issue of Jim. Instantly contrite, she apologized, "I'm sorry, Trix. I didn't even realize that there was something wrong. I guess I've been too caught up in the wedding. What happened?"

Forgetting proper etiquette, Jim leaned forward, elbows resting securely on the table, very interested in what she had to say. For once, he focused completely on her, with others around, without trying to guard the fact that he was interested in her. He didn't ask any questions but listened intently to her response.

It was always difficult when her work life came into contact with Sleepyside. She toyed with the food on her plate, pushed around the slices of carrots and lettuce, and finally let the fork drop to the china plate with a musical clink. "I can't go into detail, as you know. No case information or anything like that. But an investigator from our agency was shot on my last assignment, late last week. He died at the sight."

"What a horrible story." Honey's compassionate eyes went huge. She didn't want to picture the possibilities but her imagination was too good. It came from all those years working with Trixie as her partner. It didn't take too much to jump to the next logical conclusion. "You were there, weren't you?"

"Yeah." Having lost all appetite, she carefully took a sip from her glass of water and then put her hands on her thighs. She met each of their eyes and, for the first time ever, wished that she could tell them the entire story. She wasn't overly upset about Adam's death. It was more the fact that he had the gall to betray the agency, set a trap for their team, and then had clearly wanted to kill her that bothered her the most. Unfortunately, she wasn't free to share those pertinent tidbits. "I saw it happen."

Jim had never heard any of her stories about work before. At least, not first hand. Following her example, he laid his fork down and asked her a direct question of significant importance, something he hadn't done in years, "How are you feeling, Trixie?"

The fact that he was expressing concern for her well-being made the blue of her eyes darken and her mouth drop open before she remembered to close it. With that lone question he managed to stun her. "I'm okay. Really, I am. We had a lot of meetings about it at the agency before I flew home. We dissected it, looked at the causes and the effects, talked about different ways it could have been avoided. That helped a little. But being home, in Sleepyside, is helping out the most, as it always does," she added a little wistfully. "There's nowhere in the whole world quite like our home."

"Why do I have the feeling that there is one hell of a story here?" Dan studied her fixedly over his glass of iced tea. He swirled it around and watched her reaction like a hawk, gauging her rather sketchy answers and wondering what the hell had really happened.

Trixie shrugged her slim shoulders. "There's nothing much to share about that night. It was a routine assignment that simply went wrong, Dan. You know how quickly that can happen."

Did he ever. But he was DEA and, although he didn't voice it, the DEA had more important and dangerous assignments than a small private investigative agency ever could. But, he reasoned with himself, this was Trixie. It wouldn't surprise him if her 'routine' assignments were a bit different from the norm. He didn't have to recall the countless mysteries she had solved as a teenager. She excelled at finding trouble anywhere.

"I think it's just awful." Honey gave a shudder and threw an arm around her best friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law, and hugged her tightly. "I'm also extremely grateful that you weren't hurt."

An odd look flashed over her face, one that was gone quicker than anyone could correctly identify it. She could have been hurt, possibly mortally so, and was more than lucky that she had the extra weapon in her possession at the time and even luckier that Max was able to find her and put an end to Adam's dark intentions. "There wasn't any danger for me," she spoke insistently, apologizing inwardly for the direct lie.

Honey shivered anyway, not buying it for a moment. "I know you too well, Trixie. If there was danger around, you were right at the heart of it."

Trixie didn't add that the bullet from her gun would have disabled the man or that Max had hastened the other rogue agent towards his untimely demise. Cocking her head to the side, she had a feeling they wouldn't completely understand. "Enough talk about my job. I'm certain there is something else much more interesting we could talk about here." Looking for a likely candidate, her eyes settled on Jim and lit up with approval. "What about you, Jim? Care to share what you were doing up at Ten Acres today?"

Jim had to take a vicious bite out of his concern for her safety. He wondered how many times she had found herself in danger during the duration of her job but then he reminded himself that she was grown up and perfectly capable of handling her own affairs. "I met my contractor there this morning," he said when the other two stared at him with avid interest.

"Your contractor?" Dan repeated stupidly, having no idea that his friend was seriously moving towards building his own home.

"My contractor," Jim repeated, shifting in his seat. He felt uncomfortable with the looks the others were giving him and pulled at the bottom of his shirt. "I'm building a house up there."

"Don't worry, Dan," Honey hastened to assure him with a small laugh at her brother's expense. "I wouldn't have known that Jim was extremely ultra-serious about building, either, if Trixie hadn't told me about it yesterday."

Trixie glanced from Honey to Dan, astonished that she had obviously been the first Bob-White to learn about Jim's plans for a home up at Ten Acres. For some reason, the knowledge made her feel lighter than she had in a long time. Even if she had stumbled across the information accidentally and somewhat clumsily, she was still the first to know. That had to mean something. "Was it a secret?" she blurted out before thinking.

"Not at all," Jim hastened to assure her, unaware that both Honey and Dan were watching them interact as closely as Mart had done earlier. When their eyes met, all he could see was her. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. There have been other things to talk about. Someone is getting married around here…" His voice trailed off.

Delighted, amazed, and stunned that the two were talking without being prodded into it, and not only talking but actually quite comfortably, Honey announced, her lovely hazel eyes softening with the mood, "I think the wedding is important, but it's not the most important, Jim. I'm proud of you for starting your house. We need details, though. Lots of them." Unmindful of her elbows, she pushed aside her lunch and rested her chin in her hands. "What's going on?"

Jim found himself sharing the information about the house with the other three, without any oddness or unsettled feelings. He couldn't believe how tranquil it was to talk about it with Trixie present. She seemed as eager to hear his answers as the other two but she didn't offer many suggestions on room colors or helpful hints on decorating. He told them about the projected time frame, as well as the different permits that he had applied for earlier that morning. When he had told them everything he possibly could about the house and had promised to show Honey the plans as soon as possible, he noticed that everyone had managed to finish their meal.

When the foursome lapsed into silence, digesting the information from Jim, Dan sagged against his chair, ran a hand through his thick hair, and bemoaned dramatically, "So, Hollywood, it looks like we are going to be the only ones without a house in this neck of the woods."

"I guess so." Trixie didn't color or flinch; she took the teasing tone in the way it was offered. Her smile was normal and her eyes twinkled. It wasn't going to be impossible, she decided as she placed her napkin onto her plate. They could be friendly around each other. Judging from the relieved expression on Honey's face, it was also highly appreciated. "Any plans for you to move back?" she asked brightly.

Dan ducked his head, sent a careless shrug her way. "You never know," he replied and started to tidy up his table spot, unable to look her directly in the eyes.

Puzzled, Trixie started to question him, only to be interrupted by a tap on her arm by Honey. "What is it, Honey?"

"I'm afraid it's time," Honey said with an expression that should have been pitying but came off as amused instead. She pointed towards the clock on the wall.

Forgetting about Dan, Trixie scrunched up her nose. "Oh, no," she grumbled, having a good idea what Honey wanted them to do. "It's not time for…"

"Mmm…hmm," Honey interrupted. She reached down, grabbed Trixie's hand and tugged her away from the table. "I wanted Di to be here, too, but she had other plans with your brother. So it's just you, me and a few hundred yards of ribbon and lace!" she declared gleefully, eyes shining at the prospect of working on the decorations for the wedding. She had many, many, many decorating ideas circulating through her mind and couldn't wait to get started on them.

Dan and Jim exchanged a look that was filled with compassion for the smaller woman. "She wants Trixie to make bows?" Dan inferred dubiously. His imagination wasn't good enough to come up with examples of what her creations would look like. He doubted if any of them would ever decorate any section of the garden for the wedding.

"Probably not." Jim was thinking the exact same thing. Trixie would do her best but she did not have a creative bone in her body when it came to making objects out of material, thread, and whatever else they needed, especially something they would adorn a wedding. "Knowing Honey, she just wants Trixie to keep her company. She'll probably stay up late tonight, redoing every single bow Trixie makes once she goes home." Being careful not to look at Dan, Jim walked out of the room with a nonchalant air. He unobtrusively watched the two as they left the hallway and started up the staircase towards Honey's room. He could hear their giggles mixing together, making them sound more like school girls from the past instead of the confident career women that they were now. Judging from the way their heads were pressed together, they were both looking forward to spending more time together.

Dan made a face behind Jim's back. It was beyond obvious to him that the two needed to resolve their issues, in some kind of a form. With nearly seven years passing and no improvement, he had almost lost all hope that they could fix it. For the first time since they had broken up, he had a smidgeon that they could be starting down the best possible path, potentially leading to the best possible ending for them. Possibilities again. It was freeing to realize that there were a few more out there than any of them had realized. "Feel like walking back up to Ten Acres?" he asked conversationally.

"What for?" Since Trixie had made it upstairs and was out of sight, Jim turned to Dan questionably.

"You can give me an in-depth tour about your house. You know, show me where you want to position the house, share more of what you have planned." When Jim nodded his agreement, Dan tucked his hands into his pockets and followed him out the door. He started to whistle, a merry tune that had Jim whipping his head back to look quizzically back at him, wondering why the hell he was so damn cheerful. Dan merely grinned and followed behind him, thinking that more progress had been made in the past two days than all of the seven years the two had spent apart. A minor miracle, he added thoughtfully. The odds were definitely shifting in a more positive direction.


	11. Chapter 11

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Eleven

Fighting the urge to let the Mustang take over and race its way down quiet Glen Road, where the speed limit was decidedly not equal to the power contained under its hood, Trixie drove the car at a moderate rate of speed, slanting a glance towards Honey, her lone passenger. They were on their way to Honey's new house, where Brian and Honey were hosting a dinner for the group, in honor of the fact that it was Wednesday and the group had survived the first part of the week. The days had flown by on silent wings. So much had already been accomplished. With helping Honey pack up her room, suffering through the fitting, making the bows that were to adorn the altar, as well as the aisle, and working on the favors for the entire day, she hadn't given more than a passing thought to anything but Sleepyside for the past few days. Other than a hastily composed text back to Max the day before, she had completely reveled in being plain old Trixie Belden once again.

Almost on cue, as if her thoughts had conjured it up, her cell phone started a strain of musical chirps. She stared down at it in dismay. Her face fell into bewildered lines when she saw the name flashing in the bright blue field on the other end. Max was calling her now? She bit her bottom lip, perplexed. Should she answer it? Her thoughts were curtailed by one indignant and irritated bride-to-be.

"Don't you dare answer that phone," Honey ordered her sharply. She tugged Trixie's hand down, kept a firm grip on it while the tones continued, and shook a finger at her with the other hand. "You have that look on your face. You don't have to tell me who it is. I know it's one of your workmates from California."

Trixie nodded sheepishly. If she had really wanted to, she could have overpowered Honey's grasp easily and answered the damn phone. Since she didn't want to and there wasn't an emergency code attached to it, it seemed much easier to let it go into voicemail than to deal with it. Max may not be too happy with her but she had no intentions of letting her work life interfere with her home one right now. It would be different once she returned to California. Right now, it was all about Sleepyside. He was simply going to have to understand that. "You're right," she replied, although she eyed the phone warily as it let out its last remaining tones.

"If you answer that phone, I know what's going to happen," Honey continued, her ire rising, completely missing out on hearing Trixie's response. She was damned if she was going to let her maid of honor skip out on her wedding because of same stupid assignment. "You're going to get called in to work because no one else at your agency can possibly handle it. Then you're going to have to leave Sleepyside, most likely at the drop of a hat, and you'll end up missing out on my wedding. I've seen the pattern often enough over the years. Don't do it, Trix." Spent, tired and pleading, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Honey reached out, imploring, "Please, Trixie. Don't answer it."

"I'm not going to." Having no intentions of answering the call or returning the one she had missed, Trixie reached over and turned the cell off without a qualm. Well, with only a minor one but Honey was right. It had happened that way one too many times in the past. And everyone at the CDA knew that she wasn't going to be answering any phone calls and had absolutely no intentions of being called into work. Still, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder why Max was resorting to calling to try and get in touch with her. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided it would have to wait. If he really needed her, he would use the code. So far, he hadn't, which meant that it wasn't a dire emergency that needed her immediate attention and could be handled at a later time…a much later time, if she had her way.

Honey blew out a relieved breath, closed her lovely hazel eyes, and sank into the comfortable seat. "Thank you," she murmured meaningfully, folding her hands demurely in her lap.

"You are very welcome." Trixie stared at her out of the corner of her eye. It was tough paying attention to the road and trying to prove her sincerity but she did it. "I promise I won't let my job get in the way of your wedding, Honey. You can let that little worry of yours go. Nothing is going to stop me from being there. Everyone back at the agency knows that it is very important to me. I won't miss it. I promise."

Honey recognized the quiet intensity in her maid of honor's heartfelt words. When Trixie gave a promise, she meant it. She wouldn't break it. Honey gratefully gave up the tiny germ of an idea that something drastic would happen and Trixie would have to leave. Although it had never made that much sense to her, she had often wondered why Trixie was in such demand at private investigate agency that employed her. In her mind, it was merely a P.I. firm. Nothing more, nothing less. They hired enough people who could certainly be capable of picking up the slack when Trixie was away. Resolutely smoothing away her frown, she tactfully changed the subject. "I like the car the rental agency gave you. It's nice." Honey trailed a finger along the sleek interior, appreciating its feel. She looked up at the sunroof, wished it was warm enough to open it, and then settled for fiddling with the high tech stereo system. "Really nice."

"Me, too," Trixie answered, glad that Honey had moved on to something else. Grasping ahold of it, more than happy to not talk about her job, she added, "I was surprised that the rental agent had this car ready for me. I was expecting something less flashy, especially since I had changed my travel plans on them and they had to get a car ready for me a whole day earlier."

Satisfied with her choice in radio stations, Honey grinned as the elegant sounds of Celine Dion filled the car. She muffled a laugh at Trixie's pained expression, well aware that the singer was not one of Trixie's favorite, and thought with an inward chuckle that the bride deserved to be able to choose the music, even if it wasn't her car. "It's going to be great to have our first get-together with all of the Bob-Whites since Sunday night," she shared, happily resting against the plush interior, idle fingers playing with the seatbelt. "Brian has felt terrible about missing out on so much of the fun this week. He worked a few extra hours to make up for his time off. I haven't seen him that much over the past few days. That's one of the reasons why he suggested having everyone gather together at our house this evening for dinner. We can hang out, eat some good food, and take it easy. He doesn't have to worry about going into work tomorrow."

"I've missed out on Brian, too," Trixie agreed, thinking about her oldest brother. She had managed to catch him on the phone a time or two but that had been it for their contact. He had been very busy with the hospital and had been very scarce at home. "I want to see my big brother."

"He wants to see you." Honey chuckled, recalling her phone call with Brian last night. She had spent a good ten minutes laughing with him about the creations Trixie had made for the wedding. It had taken her almost two hours after Trixie left to make them presentable. It was certainly one case where the effort outweighed the outcome, though. Staring at Trixie with a warm and grateful light to her hazel eyes, Honey realized that her friend couldn't have shown her in any other way how much she cared for her. "He told me that last night, Trix. Now that he is officially off rotation, he'll be much more visible."

"Not only do I get to see my brother but I also get to see your house," Trixie said eagerly. She followed the gentle curve of the road. "I can't wait to see how it all turned out. You've sent me a ton of pictures but I'd rather see it in person."

"You'll love it," Honey swiftly assured her, a tranquil smile on her face. "It's a terrific house, just perfect for me and Brian. The best part is the location. Right off of Glen Road, only a short way from our homes and from Mart and Di. And Jim, too, once he finishes his house. That's a wonderful arrangement, if you ask me."

Trixie agreed with a nod. "It is," she murmured quietly, thinking about her chosen place to live. Her house wasn't even in the same zip code, let alone the same state, as any of her friends. The sudden longing for home speared through her before she determinedly ignored. Her family was in Sleepyside but her life was in California, she reminded herself sternly. She was more than used to it.

Unaware of the conflicting thoughts her innocent words had brought up, Honey continued to chatter away like the springtime birds flying gently from branch to branch above them. "I thought it was great of Jim and my father to bring over all of my boxes the other day. They spent most of Monday evening moving me over. I didn't have to do much at all. I got to spend it directing where the boxes went," she explained with a wink and a chuckle. Most of the boxes were upstairs in an empty spare bedroom, waiting for her to have the time to unpack them. The thought that they were waiting for her, in her house, and not only in her house but the house that she was going to share with Brian, as his wife, filled her with a joy she hadn't thought possible.

"I seem to have noticed that your room was much barer when we were upstairs yesterday working on those bows." Her tone was dry as dust. She tapped a finger against the steering wheel and declared sarcastically, as if it had just come to her what was missing, "So it was the boxes that weren't there anymore."

Honey chuckled. She filed away the fact that Trixie hadn't flinched at the way she had dropped in Jim's name twice now, as she would have done a few days ago, and had even furthered the conversation on. Very positive, she realized, and vowed to keep a closer eye on the two during the dinner. "We may be the last ones here," Honey cautioned after a minute of silence. "You know Mart when there's mention of any kind of food. He's generally the first one there. I'll bet he and Di arrived early. Jim's car was already gone from the house. Dan's truck was parked at the Manor House but he could have driven over with Jim or he may have been visiting his uncle. I don't know."

"Hey, it doesn't matter if we're first, last or somewhere in the middle. We're the most important ones for this event. We happen to be the ones bringing the food," Trixie said with an airy wave of her hand. She hooked her thumb towards the backseat where two full trays of the Wheeler's cook's magnificent lasagna sat. "We could take a scenic tour of Sleepyside and be hours late. It wouldn't matter. They couldn't get started without us, could they?"

Honey glanced at the backseat. The aroma of warm lasagna assaulted her nose, made her stomach start to growl lightly. "Hmm. It smells delicious." She glanced down at her waist and sighed. "I only hope I don't eat too much of it. I have an important dress to wear in a few days."

"If you do, you can always go running with me tomorrow morning," Trixie offered innocently, straight-faced and with a teasing grin. She swallowed back a giggle, knowing how Honey felt about running, especially in the wee hours of the morning.

"I still can't believe that you're a runner," Honey shot back, shuddering with disgust at the thought. She much preferred other forms of exercise to keep in shape, such as swimming, aerobics, using the elliptical or stepper. Running was not high on her list, especially first thing in the morning. "You're very dedicated to it. You haven't missed out on a morning yet, have you?"

And she wouldn't. The only day she was going to give herself off was Saturday. The wedding was much more important than the need to stay in shape. "Not yet," she remarked cheerfully. Her mother had stopped acting surprised each morning when she was the first one up and about in order to go out for a run. She slowed the car down as new, shining asphalt appeared off to the right and pointed in excitement. "Look at that, Honey. Here we are!"

Honey leaned forward, eager to see her house. She hadn't been over to it since Monday evening, when her brother and father had brought over her boxes. The wedding and everything that needed to be finished before Saturday had swallowed up most of her awake time, while Brian's hectic schedule at the hospital had gleefully eaten away at any possible time with him. Her smile grew as Trixie expertly made the turn and they drove on the short driveway up to the brand-new home, situated beautifully in a wide clearing. Freshly planted sod, bright green and vibrant, covered up the unattractive piles of dirt that the yard had been reduced to during the commotion of the building. A few new shrubs and colorful flowers had already been planted. The large white house stood proudly, with a backdrop of trees offering long shadows of shade. The yard had been flattened and cleared but not stripped of trees since both Brian and Honey had wanted a natural and pleasing landscape.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile that wide before," Trixie acknowledged as she pulled in next to Jim's SUV. After cutting off the engine, she turned to stare at Honey.

"You ain't seen nothing yet. Wait until Saturday," Honey murmured back, with feeling and an irrepressible sparkle to her eyes. "I don't think I'm going to stop smiling all day."

Impulsively, Trixie reached forward and gave her a quick hug. "Saturday's going to be here before we know it. I can't wait. It's going to be an amazing day, Honey Wheeler. We're finally going to be sisters. Legally," she tacked on since they had always felt that particular bond. She drew back, tucked a curl that had escaped her pony tail behind an ear, and questioned, pretending not to notice an annoyed Mart waiting for them by the front door, "What else needs to get done before then?"

"Well, you, me and Di put a good dent in making the favors today. Mother and Miss Trask are going to finish them for us, either tonight or tomorrow." Honey sucked in a deep breath. She had put off sharing the next part of the agenda with Trixie, uncertain how she would feel about the plans. Things were going good but…she wasn't certain if she was ready to test them yet. "We get a little road trip tomorrow. We have to drive in to White Plains to pick up my veil and your matching wraps. The seamstresses forgot to bring them with them yesterday. They offered to drive the items out today but I said that it wasn't a big deal. I don't mind going to pick them up myself."

A bridezilla Honey was not. Trixie imagined that the poor employee who had to admit the glaring oversight to Honey hadn't been expecting the bride-to-be to make that kind and considerate offer. Only sweet, gentle and wonderful Honey wouldn't have gotten upset over the slight omission. "I like the sound of that," she decided, feeling relieved that they weren't going to have to work on anything frilly tomorrow. "I can drive, if you want."

How would she feel when she found out the rest? Honey wasn't certain. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Trixie wouldn't mind. "That's nice but I don't think we'll be able to fit everyone in your car. I think Brian may have a few errands, too." She nervously began to play with her seatbelt, cuing Trixie that all wasn't as neat and simple as it appeared to be. "I've kinda already asked him to come with us, too. Brian mentioned something about the road trip to Dan, who also volunteered to join us. He's been looking for something more exciting to do than hang around the house or, in his case, the cabin." Staring down, avoiding Trixie's gaze, Honey suddenly found her fingers very interesting. She stretched them out, studied her old manicure, and noticed a chip in the polish at the end of one nail. "And, umm, since Jim is free, I, umm, also kinda asked him to go with us, too. We're taking his car. He's going to drive us."

Her answering 'oh' said it all. Trixie stared past Honey, right at the SUV, and tried to recall the last time she had driven in the same car with Jim. It was beyond pitiful that she couldn't remember. A road trip with Jim. She shook her head, sending her pony tail into a bouncing dance. It was yet another sign that their truce was putting their friends onto a more comfortable plateau. Honey would never have made the offer to Jim if they weren't getting along better than they had in years. "That sounds like fun," she mumbled, her eyebrows drawn together. She struggled to find something else to ask, to stop Honey from interviewing her on her feelings about Jim coming along, because she wasn't certain how, exactly, she felt about it. "What about Di and Mart? Are they coming, too?"

Honey trilled out a light laugh. She didn't acknowledge Trixie's effort to change the subject although it didn't go unnoticed. "Di has to work tomorrow so she's out. I haven't asked Mart but I sincerely doubt that he will want to leave town. He's probably already made plans to spend the lunch hour with his lovely wife."

Trixie opened her door and exited the car. "You're right about that, Honey." Together they took out the trays of lasagna and headed towards the front door. Trixie gestured with her chin towards the front door, pointing out what Honey had missed in her nerves over sharing the shopping trip plans. "Look who's waiting for us."

"He probably wants to make certain we didn't eat the food on the way over," Honey whispered quietly, earning an amused chuckle from her best friend.

"I think you're right," Trixie whispered back. Louder, she yelled out, admonishing her brother, "You know, you could offer to help us, brother dear."

He sniffed the air and simultaneously wrung his hands in anticipation. "I could," Mart replied, one eyebrow high and a irksome smile on his face. "But it wouldn't be as much fun." He leaned forward and rubbed his stomach. "I have to say, squaw, that it took you long enough to get here."

"You can blame me for that," Honey inserted, shouldering the blame beautifully, successfully predicting that Mart would only tease Trixie unmercifully if she didn't admit to it. She had witnessed enough of their sibling banters over the years to recognize the signs that one was brewing. They only got worse if Mart was hungry. Playing peacemaker didn't bother her in the least. "I wanted to recount all of the favors we made today. Trixie offered to stay and help me. Di went down to the farm to get the dessert for us, where I think she met you. That's why we're late."

"Like you haven't eaten enough snacks already, Mart," Brian said from the doorway, the most relaxed expression on his face that any of them had seen in the longest of times. Having some time off from the hospital was definitely going to do him some good. He gallantly took the tray from his fiancée and, because he was feeling like a brand new man flying with wings that weren't clipped by any serious responsibilities for the next few weeks other than the upcoming wedding, he also pressed a kiss to her lips to celebrate while Trixie and Mart smirked at each other, trying not to laugh.

A bit breathless, Honey drew back and tucked a stray strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear. He usually didn't greet her quite like that, not with others present, especially his family, and, while it certainly made her very happy, it also flustered her. "Well, okay," she said, a silly grin on her flushed, exultant and slightly embarrassed face. "Has…umm, everyone else made it over?"

Brian nodded, entranced by the rosy red color spreading its way across her cheeks. He opened the door wider. "You and Trixie are the last ones. Come on. Di and Dan volunteered to put together the salad. Jim was seeing to getting the drinks ready. Mart, well…" He tilted his head towards his brother.

"He volunteered to be the look-out!" Trixie inferred accurately and chuckled when the 'look-out' glared at her.

"Exactly!" Brian agreed, laughing. He started into the house, balancing the tray with one hand and wrapping the other one around Honey's waist. "Grab the other tray, Mart. We're ready to eat."

Mart grumbled a few incoherent words, belatedly and not very graciously took the tray from his sister's hands and stomped his way into the house. She didn't call him to task on his behavior. Instead, Trixie lagged a bit behind, wanting to have a little time to herself. She stood on the threshold, eyes wide and taking everything in. She stared at the freshly painted walls and looked around the new house. The walls in the small foyer were painted a cheery yellow, obviously influenced by Honey's favorite tone. She ran a hand over an ornamental table residing by the side of the door, without any decorations or knickknacks on it yet before walking into the large living room. Comfy furniture was already spread out, inviting anyone who would like to rest. Flimsy white curtains billowed in the breeze from a slightly open window, letting in the fresh scents of spring. A large fireplace, made of stone with a polished wood mantel, sat in the center of the far wall. Very pleasing, very inviting, and definitely homey. Trixie smiled in appreciation. It was a wonderful fit for Honey and Brian.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" a voice said quietly net to her, letting her know that she wasn't the only one in the room anymore.

He was close, very close. She cursed herself for not being able to pick up on the fact that someone else was in the room with her. He had managed to startle her, which didn't fit well upon her shoulders. She was normally more aware of her surroundings and of the people in them. "Yes, it is," she answered just as quietly back and turned to face him.

"This is the first time you've seen it finished," Jim stated, not as a question but as a solid fact. He had seen the wonder on her overly expressive face, the flash of joy and possibly even envy in her beautiful blue eyes.

Her head bobbed up and down while she tried not to get too excited that he was initiating a conversation with her while no one else was around. Hoping she was answering with ease, Trixie perched down on the arm of an overly stuffed chair and picked up a deep burgundy throw pillow. She held it in her lap and absently turned it over and over, using the motion as an outlet for her nerves. "It looks much better than it did the last time I was home. I've only seen the outside and this room so far. I'm looking forward to seeing the rest."

"I'd offer to take you on a tour but I think Mart might kill me," Jim responded, surprising her with the offer and the joke. He threw a glance back towards the kitchen. Pitching his voice low, he confided, "He's been watching for you and Honey to come for a while now. I think he's starved."

"When is he ever not hungry." It was not a question but a statement, one of fact and one that couldn't be disputed. Trixie gave a small shake of her head, sending her pony tail bouncing in a haphazard and delightfully way. Staring down at the hardwood floors, she didn't notice the way he watched the motion of the blonde curls. "I'll, ah, take a rain check on that tour. It'll keep the peace, if you know what I mean." Lifting her head up, she rewarded his offer with a smile.

It nearly bowled him over. An honest-to-goodness, complete with sparkle to her deep blue eyes, smile. It wasn't a bland one. It certainly wasn't a forced one. It was her smile, aimed solely at him, the lucky recipient. He couldn't recollect the last time she had willingly smiled at him, without someone else around to bask in its glory. God, he hadn't realized that offering something as simple as truce wouldn't simply create a crack in his resolve. It was supposed to have made the week easier on him. Instead, it was backfiring on him big time, was threatening to tear every single defense he'd ever made against her down and crumble them into dust. And, as Dan had cheerfully pointed out the day before, there were still a few more days before the wedding. Before he could register his intentions or prevent it from happening, Jim reached out and offered her a hand.

Trixie stared down at his large freckled hand, astounded by the unspoken offer. Her eyes doubled in size. Her breath stilled. Her hand flexed, whether in memory for the many times they had held hands in the past or from fear for what it would feel like now, after all the issues dwelling between them, she didn't know. In ultra-slow motion, she laid her smaller one in his and allowed him to pull her up into a standing position. When she was standing, they both let go. The contact lasted for maybe five seconds, tops. Saying nothing, she brought her confused gaze up to his. She couldn't read anything on his face and wondered if his heart was pounding as loudly as hers was now. Uncertain and shaken, despising the fact that such a simple and ordinary act could have an overwhelming effect on her, she cleared her throat. "Th..thank you," she stammered out.

He could still feel her touch. Holy hell, he could still feel it, right in the center of his palm. He curled his hand, whether to protect the sensation and keep it there longer or to keep himself from reaching back out to her, he couldn't tell. It didn't matter, not really. "Ah…no problem," he answered, mesmerized by her. They stood like statues, simply staring, without making a move to move. Incapable of thought, it took him almost a full minute to realize that he needed to say something else, before he turned himself into a complete fool. "The kitchen," he eventually came out with. "You'll want to know where it is. Come on. It's this way." It took a superhuman effort to turn away, to lead her in the correct direction.

Trixie fell into step with him, filing away her reaction to what should have been a very brief and common touch. How she could be so affected was beyond her and yet…when they had held hands for that small, practically insignificant span of time, it had felt like they had never been apart. Something to ponder, definitely something to analyze, but not with five other very curious, smart and inquisitive friends only a room or two away. Later, much later, when she was safe within the confines of her bedroom, back at Crabapple Farm. By the time she made it to the kitchen, she had her normal smile back on her face and had her thoughts tucked away, out of sight and, mostly, out of mind.

The kitchen was crowded with bustling people. Without wasting a minute, Honey quickly stuffed silverware into Trixie's hands while Di offered Jim glasses filled with ice and iced tea. "You can set the table, Trixie, and Jim, you are in charge of the drinks," Honey proclaimed, keeping an eye on how Dan was slicing the carrots for the salad. Deciding that he was handling the simple chore well and didn't need her guidance, she turned back and said, "We'll bring the dishes in later."

"Hurry up," Mart complained from the counter, where he was slicing up the last of the tomatoes. "The food may not last much longer." To illustrate his point, he popped a slice of tomato into his mouth.

Trixie and Jim shared an amused glance, much to the amazement of the occupants of the room, and slowly left to complete their assigned chores in the dining room. Brian paused in the act of handing Honey an oven mitt and murmured, "When did that happen?"

"Oh? You mean Trixie and Jim getting along?" Honey inquired sweetly, accepting the oven mitt. She reached into the oven and pulled out the warming loaves of bread. With practiced ease, she put the sheet onto a free spot on the counter.

"You've missed out, man," Dan teased, holding up his plate of carrots for Di's inspection before dumping them into the large salad bowl. "That's what happens when you work twenty hours in a day."

"I can see that." Brian shook his head and reached into the cabinet to pull out a few bottles of salad dressings. His dark eyes slid back to the doorway, still finding it unusual that Jim and Trixie were at ease in each other's company.

"They agreed to a truce for the wedding," Di explained to Brian quickly and then hushed the others with her hands when she heard footsteps coming back in for more items. They quieted just in time. Trixie and Jim appeared on the threshold again, ready for their next orders. "Here are a few more of the glasses," she said gaily to Jim, practically shoving them into his hands, and much louder than she needed to.

"The knives are on the counter," Honey announced to Trixie, just as cheerfully, just as loudly, and just as overly brightly, obviously trying to overcompensate for talking about them behind their backs. Too caught up in covering up their recent subject, she forgot to get out the spoons for the table and turned to the bread. Intentionally not looking at either of them, she slid the two loaves of bread into a basket.

Trixie halted, arched an eyebrow, and slid a glance over at Jim, not fooled for a minute by the deceptively innocent looks coming her way. She knew what they had been talking about. More, she recognized that they weren't finished with the conversation, either, which somehow made it worse. "I can take a hint," Trixie mumbled ever-so-quietly to Jim, who agreed with a curt nod of his head. She picked up her items, sent a telling glare to the others, and left the room with a haughty toss of her blonde head. It would have been a magnificent exit if she hadn't tripped over the colorful throw rug out in the hall.

Her face blushed a bright red with the laughter emanating from her almost-twin's mouth, who had seen her stumble. She said something not very complimentary about him and stalked the rest of the way to the dining room. "They're talking about us in there," she grumbled to Jim and started to put down the knives with more force than was strictly needed.

"They must be bringing Brian up-to-date," Jim inferred with a lopsided grin. He put down the glasses with more care than Trixie used with the knives. Deciding that their friends could talk all they wanted to, he sat down in a chair and motioned for Trixie to do the same. "Let them talk, Trixie. It's not that big of a deal. It's also not like they've never done it before, you know."

"We do happen to be their favorite topic of conversation," she admitted, blowing out a small, frustrated breath. Not brave enough to sit right next to Jim, she took the chair directly across from him and plopped down. She spread her palms out on the smooth, polished wood, inspected the table settings and noticed that the spoons were missing. With a shrug of her shoulders, she decided that the group inside the kitchen could bring out the spoons if they really wanted them. She wasn't going back in for the missing utensils. "But you're right. It's not a big deal."

"So, I hear we have a road trip tomorrow," Jim said, changing the subject. He was surprised by how much he was looking forward to the trip. Shopping normally wasn't his forte. Shopping in a city definitely wasn't. But going with his friends and with the woman across the table from him put it in a different light.

"Yeah. We're going to White Plains," Trixie answered. As she was apt to do when she was nervous, she found a way to keep her hands busy. She picked up her napkin and started folding it into tiny squares, much to his unspoken amusement. "Honey told me about it right when we got here. It should be fun. I'm looking forward to a day off from wedding preparations. I've seen enough ribbon, lace, and whatever the heck that other frilly stuff is called to last me a lifetime."

He studied her closely, was pleased to see that she wasn't using 'fun' in place of another, less complimentary word. She meant it. His lips curved up. "It will be a good time. Honey said that there is this neat new diner there that reminds her of Wimpy's. I think that's where she wants to go for lunch."

"That sounds wonderful. We won't tell Mike about it, though." Trixie leaned back in her chair when the others started filing in. She grinned her thank you when Dan offered her a plate of the lasagna and chuckled lightly when Honey handed everyone a spoon. Soon, everyone was seated and enjoying the dinner. The atmosphere was decidedly relaxed and extremely comfortable, right from the start, a first for the group of seven. Trixie, as well as the others, reveled in it, but no one commented on it, not to the group at large.

When Mart was entertaining the table with a comical story about working at the station, Brian used the commotion to lean forward and tapped Honey on the arm. When her large hazel eyes met his, he whispered quietly so that only she could hear, "This feels like old times, Honey."

"No," Honey disagreed, shaking her head vehemently. She looked down the table, saw Trixie laughing at something Dan was saying to her, most likely in response to Mart's story, and caught the way Jim was staring at her. He was trying hard not to but he couldn't stop himself from looking in her direction. "It's more than that, Brian. It's not just like old times. This is the way it's supposed to be. This is the way it is meant to be between us."

He recognized the hopeful look to her face. It couldn't be missed. It was shining through. Starting to get worried, hoping himself that she wasn't wanting something that most likely may not ever happen, he intoned carefully, wanting to keep her off of a path that could only lead her to disappointment, "Honey, be careful what you're thinking. Just because they are talking doesn't mean…"

She cut him off with a small laugh, aimed solely at herself, and held up her hands in rueful supplication. "I know, I know, Brian. Believe me, I know. You don't have to say another word. It's the romantic in me. I can't help but wish that Jim and Trixie would get back together. All of us sitting here would love that. And, if they were to do it because of our wedding…" She didn't finish but her low, satisfied sigh said it all, as did the soft, dreamy expression on her face. "How wonderful would that be? I can't help but feel this way. They belong together. They've always belonged together, since the very first day Trixie and I met Jim up in that old mansion. I simply can't understand why they aren't together."

He grunted a response. There wasn't any way of steering his fiancée away from her wish. More practical, probably the most practical one in the whole bunch seated at the table, he let himself imagine for a few seconds what it would be like if Trixie and Jim did reunite. His hand gripped his wife's under the table, hard. He didn't need to say anything to her. She was right. It would be wonderful.


	12. Chapter 12

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twelve

After the meal was finished and seven satisfied people were lounging in their chairs, wondering if they could possibly eat anymore, Honey stood up and started collecting plates. She didn't say anything but she didn't have to. Within seconds, others were up and about, helping clear the table. They brought everything into the kitchen where they quickly began cleaning up. Mart, with a little prodding from Di, helped Trixie clear off the dishes. Di accepted everything that was dishwasher safe and carefully put it into the brand new appliance. Brian and Jim wrapped up the few leftovers, with Dan volunteering to wipe down the dining room table. Since not all of the items were able to go into the dishwasher, Honey washed them at the large double sink.

"You have to love these modern conveniences!" Di closed the dishwasher with a satisfied thud and pressed the buttons. Instantly, the machine was readying to clean the many dishes inside. She pretended to wipe away the nonexistent sweat off from her forehead and added, "I know I love mine. Do you have one of these, Trix? I seem to remember that you always hated washing dishes when you were a teenager."

"Hmm, yeah, I have a dishwasher," Trixie answered absently. She grabbed a paper towel and cleaner and started wiping down the counter. "I don't use it that much, though." She didn't need to. She was rarely ever there to need it.

"You used to complain up and down about the lack of a dishwasher at home when we were kids," Mart reminisced with a teasing glint in his blue eyes. "Especially in the hot summer months. We never needed one, though. We always had you."

She wrinkled her nose at him but didn't rise up to the challenge, much to his visible disappointment. She had heard the same thing, or a variation of it, for years now, and found that it was easier, if not quite as much fun, to let it roll off of her. Sometimes it was even more enjoyable to witness a chagrinned Mart than to engage in a battle of almost-twin insults. She had trouble biting back a sly smile, feeling as if she had won this particular round.

With pretty violet eyes sparkling Di leaned against the window, hiding her own chuckle when Mart started grumbling under his breath. She stared at the gathered friends, thought that it was the best thing ever to have all of them together, and then remembered the interesting item she had discovered yesterday. "Oh!" she squeaked out loudly, shocked that she hadn't thought to bring it up sooner, and blamed it on those damn pregnancy hormones. Every head in the room swung towards her except her sister-in-law.

Trixie looked down, continued to wipe circles on the top of the already sparkling counter, and calculated the distance between her spot in the kitchen and the door. Unfortunately, she didn't stand a chance. She couldn't get there without drawing everyone's attention. Sighing, Trixie stood stock-still, resembling a fox on the hunt, and waited for Di to break the news to the interested and curious group.

Having put away the last of the dishes in the cabinet, Honey glanced towards Di and carefully folded the dish towel. She asked the question that was on almost everyone's mind. "What's wrong, Di? Is everything all right?"

"Oh, there's nothing wrong," Di insisted, laughing at herself and the way she had gained everyone's attention. She smoothed a hand over her black hair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Really, Honey. I only just remembered something new I learned yesterday. That's all."

Focused entirely on Di, Mart didn't notice Trixie or how ultra-still she had gone. He skirted around the counter and came closer to his wife, hoping nothing was wrong. Then her words sank in. Something she had learned yesterday? She hadn't shared anything new with him, other than their latest visit to the doctor's. "What do you mean, Di?"

Beaming with delight, absolutely excited that she was going to tell them something no other Bob-White knew, Di answered dramatically, "I found it out yesterday when we were getting fitted for our dresses. You're never going to believe it, guys. I was absolutely shocked, myself."

To hell with it. Not caring if it branded her a coward, Trixie started to move away from the counter. The door was as far away as it could get. She moved towards it but knew in her heart that she didn't stand a chance of getting there before Di spilled the news to everyone. Tiptoeing, hoping that no one noticed her attempt at a speedy and stealthy departure, she gave it a gallant try.

Of course Jim caught it. Frowning, he watched Trixie start to try and sidle her way out of the room. She moved sideways, slowly, carefully, and deliberately, as if she wanted to leave the kitchen as inconspicuously as possible, without anyone the wiser. The only logical conclusion came to him. Whatever Di found out had to do with Trixie. What could it be? His imagination wasn't as strong as some of the others in the room. He couldn't come up with a single possible answer, especially when it looked like Trixie wanted to be anywhere but here at this possible moment. He felt immediate sympathy well up within him for her, as well as some worry. Slanting a glance at the others, he noticed that no one else had caught Trixie's extremely slow and methodical meander towards the door.

Trixie would have been astounded to realize that Jim had read her moves so accurately. She inched her way forward but didn't come close to making it to the doorway before Di called out her name. She couldn't ignore it, not without calling extra attention to herself. Shoulders drooping, she stopped and turned to face Di, feeling as if she was getting ready to face the guillotine instead of a group of her beloved peers. She was not looking forward to everyone's reaction.

"Trixie!" Di said gaily, oblivious to the fact that Trixie clearly did not want to share the news with everyone. She motioned her forward and smiled becomingly, wanting to share her discovery with everyone. "You've got to show them," she pleaded, her smile winning and wide, and practically jumping up and down in her excitement. "They are going to be so surprised."

Caught, left with no other recourse that couldn't be considered rude, Trixie moved in the opposite direction of where she wanted to go, her feet heavy and reluctant, unable to do anything else. She didn't want to hurt Di's feelings and, she realized fatalistically, it was better to get it over with. Now that Di knew, it was going to come out sooner or later. She was actually surprised that Di hadn't shared it with Mart already. Judging from the expression on her brother's face, he was as clueless as the rest of the group. She accepted her fate with as gracious of a smile as she could pinned to her lips, although it felt fake and unnatural, and slowly came forward.

"Show us what?" Mart inquired, sliding an odd look towards Trixie. He tapped a finger along his lips, started considering, and came up with a few unflattering ideas right off the top of his head. "Has my sister suddenly grown a sixth toe on her foot on her foot? Or maybe, since she lives near the beach, she's suddenly developed webbed feet from all the time she spends in the ocean?" The possibilities were endless. Warming up, beginning to get into the spirit of what he considered a new and insulting game, he was brought to a sharp and disappointing end by Dan, who had returned from his chore in the dining room.

In deference to Trixie, Dan reached over and cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. "Shut up, Mart," he ordered him lightly but forcefully.

"Thanks, Dan," Trixie murmured, almost giggling when Mart threw him an annoyed glare and rubbed the side of his head. Almost. She was too conscious of what was going to come next and blew out a small breath. The waiting was the worst part.

"Anytime," Dan replied easily, winking at her to lighten her mood a little.

"Like I said, you're never going to believe. Our Trixie has a tattoo!" she yelled excitedly. This time she did start jumping up and down, delighted to be the one announcing the news to the flabbergasted group. "I saw it for the first time yesterday when we were getting fitted for our dresses. It's right here!" She whirled an unsuspecting Trixie around and, because the group had been friends for many, many years, lifted up the red shirt without a second thought. She exposed the tattoo for one and all to see, all without realizing that Trixie was practically dying of mortification and that her face was nearly the same color as her shirt. "See, everyone? It's right here!"

There was no stopping Diana Lynch Belden when she got a plan in her mind. Because she loved her, because she understood her, and because she didn't have any other option, Trixie endured it without grousing, complaining or planning a revenge of equal or higher value. "It's not that interesting," she said when the room went unnaturally quiet, right before their friends started to close in on them.

Honey clasped her hands together, seriously impressed. The dish towel floated down to the counter, to land in a heap. "Wow! Trixie! I had no idea," she said and sprinted forward to get a first row look at it, cutting off her fiancé without a second though. With all of her speed, Mart still managed to beat her to it. She made a face at him and made room for herself. She pretended not to notice the flush that was staining her best friend's face or that fact that Trixie looked decidedly uncomfortable and was definitely wishing to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but in that room. Instead, Honey looked down at the tattoo with extreme interest.

Intrigued himself, Dan inched forward. Although Trixie didn't look too happy about being put on display for all of their friends, he, like the rest, couldn't pass up the chance to see it. While he was sympathetic with her plight, he stood on his tops of his toes, looked over Honey's head at the revealed patch of skin, and then did a double-take. He shook his head as if to clear it and then leaned in closer, almost bumping into Honey. He didn't notice. It was there, exactly what he thought he saw. Staggered, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. His eyebrows snapped together. His face lost its curious look, became stunned and tinged with something akin to awe, before he drew back from the fold and quietly faded into the background, a specialty of his. He left the room without a second look, rocked to the core by what he had seen and what he knew it to mean. Using the time alone to think, he began running through everything he knew about Trixie and her life from the time she had moved out to California, which, he had to admit, wasn't that much, and wondered quietly to himself when she had become such an accomplished liar. What she had managed to hide from all of them astonished the hell out of him. His footsteps faded down the hall and he slipped into the quiet dining room to contemplate his suspicions further. His absence wasn't missed from the group within.

Jim had a much different sort of reaction than Dan, one he should have been getting used to by now. More skin, exposed above the waistband of her hip-hugging jeans, and knowing that she had a permanent design on her body, made her even more appealing to him than she already was. As if he needed anything else to do that, he thought sarcastically. The urge to shoulder Honey aside so that he could take her place and touch the tattoo was strong, much stronger than he wanted it to be. He clamped down on it, stuck those damn, infuriating, twitching hands of his into his pockets, and slumped back against the wall. God, if this week didn't kill him, he didn't know what would. Forgetting that the coffee had just been brewed, he knocked back a deep, fortifying sip only to have it burn a hot trail down his throat that made him gasp and cough and his eyes start to water. Lucky for him, no one saw, all too intent on Trixie. Mart would have had a field day with that.

Brian was the first male to snap out of his shock. Ever the doctor, he began by asking the medically appropriate questions. "Who did the work, Trixie? Was it a sterile environment? Did they use the right needles?" He looked at her the only way a true doctor could while he waited impatiently for her answers.

Because she was self-conscious, Trixie went for a flippant answer. "No. I had it done in an old trailer by a member of a biker gang. I'm pretty certain that the needle was old and rusty and had been used on the person before me," she quipped with a straight face before dissolving into a fit of hysterical giggles, her amusement brought on more by the fact that everyone seemed to be in shocked because she had the nerve to get a tattoo. When he frowned at her, quite severely, her laughter stilled and she sighed deeply. More seriously, she answered, "You don't have to worry. It was a very safe and reputable place, Brian. A few friends from work recommended it to me."

"Who recommended it to you?" Honey tapped a star and lifted her head.

Trixie studied Di covertly. For one long moment she contemplated returning the favor and putting Di and her brother in the spotlight, but she couldn't let their cat of a secret out of the bag, not even if it was justified. Di was only being Di. She didn't mean any harm, certainly had no idea that the tattoo would have been better kept hidden than revealed. "Jocelyn," she said, sharing only one of the people who had recommended the tattoo shop to her. Most of the agents at her agency had gone to the same place. The tattoos were all different but they all had two identifying signals on them in case they ever needed to prove their status.

Uncaring if it wasn't the most proper thing to do, Di lifted Trixie's shirt a little higher and pulled her closer. "Let's not worry about that. Let's look at the tattoo instead. See, Honey? The stars are shaded in at the edges with different colors. That's cool. I noticed that yesterday when I first saw it."

Uncaring if her actions weren't the most polite or refined, Honey elbowed Mart out of the way. She ignored his grunt of protest and bent down for a closer look. She tucked her long honey-colored hair behind her ears, wanting to get as unobstructed of a view as possible. "You're right, Di." She reached down and touched the different stars, copying Di while Trixie dropped her head back in resignation and stared up at the ceiling.

"Help me," Trixie grouched. She looked imploringly at the others over her shoulder. Brian folded his arms and leaned against the counter, with Mart copying his pose. They held their hands up, telling her plainly that she was on her own. Jim was closer, right by the wall, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. She couldn't tell what he was thinking but at least he wasn't looking in disapproval or anger at her. It escaped her attention that Dan was no longer in the room.

"Don't look at me," Mart informed her cheerfully. He picked up his cup from the counter and took a long sip. "I'm not going to be of any help to you. I hate to use this word in front of you but I'm curious, Trix. I'd like to hear the story behind your tattoo."

Jim eyed her over the rim, watched the skin start to turn even more pink, if that was even possible, and wished that he had the nerve to move closer to inspect the tattoo himself like Honey had done. The current state of their relationship didn't allow for that kind of a liberty, especially when it involved a patch of unclothed skin. He stayed where he was, watching the proceedings, and attempted to puzzle out another way to get a closer look. Unfortunately, there was none, not unless he was called forward by one of the girls. Since that wasn't likely to happen, he was stuck where he was, right by the wall, and wishing for a closer look.

"I want to know more, too. When did you get your tattoo?" Brian continued his line of questioning, ignoring the girls who were ohhing and ahhing in quiet, excited tones over the different shades Trixie had used in design, and innocently obstructing the clear view of the others.

"Right after I graduated from the university," Trixie answered, her eyes looking forlorn, and unable to lie to them. Being the center of attention tied with housework. She hated both of them with a vengeance. Worse, she realized they wouldn't be happy with her answer. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself for their reactions.

"You've got to be kidding me. That was four years ago." Mart lifted his head, a little shocked that she would have done something so permanent and almost irreversible, and not share it with them. Disappointment and hurt flashed briefly in his eyes before he hid it. She was an adult, perfectly capable of making her own decisions, he tried to tell himself…but it still hurt.

Trixie read the look on his face correctly. When she swung her eyes towards the other men in the room, she saw that it was mirrored on their faces, too. She imagined if Honey's and Di's heads weren't bent down in their contemplative study of her side, it would also be reflected on theirs. She kept her features bland although her thoughts were racing. What would they think if they ever found out the truth about her vocation or the true meaning behind her tattoo? Even if she had the official clearance to share everything with them, she wasn't brave enough to find out. She had a feeling she would be seeing much more than disappointment or hurt. "It was a bit of a celebration," she began slowly, knowing that they wanted more than the meager amount of information that they had managed to ferret out from her. "I had just graduated from CU and had been hired at the agency. It was for fun. Really." She hoped her words rang true for them. It was tough lying about it, especially when there was a much stronger reason behind her tattoo. It had meant that she had been accepted into the CDA as a full agent and that her training period was officially over.

Di drew back from her study and declared, choosing to overlook the fact that Trixie hadn't willingly told them about it, "Whoever did it was very artistic. I told you yesterday that I like your choice, Trix. Seven stars, placed in a circle configuration, and each with their own unique color. It's simple and very pretty."

"Why seven?" Honey wanted to know although she had a pretty good idea.

"There's power in the number of seven," Trixie said with a small shrug, unwilling to admit aloud that each star stood for a Bob-White. It had been the only way she could take them with her into each mission, the exact way they had stood beside her during her early years of mystery-solving, when they were a huge part of her and Honey's fledgling detective agency. She needed them with her, even if only through a sentimental, symbolic gesture. Part of her strength had always been derived from them. And it always would be. She couldn't deny it or overlook it. It was simply the way it was supposed to be.

"Don't look at your sister like that, Mart," Di chastised her husband softly, unknowingly interrupting Honey's next question, which had been about the three initials adorning one of the stars. "Trixie certainly has the right to do what she wants. She doesn't need to share all the details of her life with us, you know."

Mart flushed under his wife's words. She was right but it didn't make him feel better. To him, it was more than just a tattoo. It meant that Trixie had a whole life, possibly even a more fascinating one, than she had ever cared to share with him. But he couldn't overlook the determined look in his wife's violet eyes. Giving in, he ran a hand through his short blonde hair, cut close enough so none of the Belden curls would have the chance to appear, and declared evenly, "You're right, Di. Since you and Honey have a front row view, you're going to have to tell us what else you see."

Di gifted him with a dazzling smile of pure approval. She turned to Mart and explained, pointing to each star as she did so, "The stars are all the same shape and size and in that circular shape. They're also tattooed in black. But she picked different colors to edge them out, to make them all a little different. I saw that yesterday. We've got two stars done in differing shades of blue, another star is in green. Then there's a brown star, a black one, a purple one and a yellow star. They are all beautiful and perfectly drawn."

Jim's gaze immediately shot to hers, wouldn't leave it. He held her captive with it for a good minute. He understood completely, even if Di or the others hadn't made the connection yet. While not the biggest fans of tattoos, the symbolism of hers was touching. Seven stars, seven Bob-Whites, and all with the colors that matched their personalities. He didn't say a word but nodded once, a silent acknowledgement. Then he helped her out before Di could tell them about the initials or the infinity sigh. His words surprised her even more. "Didn't you mention something earlier about dessert, Di?" She hadn't but he was willing to use it as an excuse. Trixie looked as if she had handled as much as she could. "I can hear your husband's stomach rumbling all the way over here. It's been over half an hour since we finished dinner."

"Dessert! That's right! We were in charge of the dessert." She whirled around and made her way to the counter, thoughts about Trixie and the tattoo completely gone. "I have to correct myself. We brought the dessert. Your mother made it, Brian," she said, smiling. She pulled the apple pie out of the oven where it had been warming, and laid it on the counter, next to the containers of whipped cream and vanilla ice cream that Honey pulled out from the refrigerator.

Thankful that the interrogation appeared to be over, Trixie moved back and rested against the wall. She watched as Mart zeroed in on the pie, with Honey and Brian bringing up the rear, and allowed herself to relax. Her hands tugged her shirt down, making certain it was hanging the way that it should, and that all signs of her tattoo were once again covered up from view.

"Relieved?" Jim asked lowly from nearby.

Startled, Trixie lifted her head. "You can't even begin to imagine," she replied dryly and let out a long, freeing breath. It wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be but it felt wonderful to have it over and done with.

"You've always hated being in the limelight," he noted, recalling the many times where she had wanted to shrink away from it. There were too many to count and were as vibrant in his mind as if they had happened only yesterday instead of in their shared teenage years.

"You've got that right. Thanks for diverting their attention." Trixie smoothed her hands over her shirt, grateful that her tattoo was once again hidden from view, but well aware that none of them would forget about it. She kept her hands pressed against her thighs. "Bringing up dessert was a perfect idea. I only wish I had thought of it myself."

"My pleasure." He gave her a nudge on the shoulder, more so he could touch her again than to urge her on. "Go accept your piece of pie and get into the dining room before they start questioning you again," he suggested knowingly, well aware that once the task was taking care of, the group would remember the topic and attack it again with vengeance, if they weren't successfully diverted. Dessert was the way to do it. "I'll bring a cup of coffee in for you, if you'd like."

That was exactly what they would do once the dessert was served. Tossing him a grateful grin, momentarily lost in the friendly emerald eyes staring back at her, she grabbed a plate from the counter. "Thanks again," she murmured lowly and meandered her way out of the room, barely resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder at Jim.

She entered the dining room with a thankful air. Only Dan was present. "Hey, Dan," she greeted him, surprised to see him standing in the corner, with a look on his face she couldn't decipher. When he didn't answer her right away, only stared back at her with an inscrutable expression on his face, the momentary feeling of relief that her questioning period was over evaporated. He made her defenses go on red alert, even more so than the others in the kitchen had, which was really stupid since she couldn't ever remember Dan making her feel like that, not since the first time he had moved to Sleepyside and she had misjudged him so dreadfully.

He stared straight at her, almost positive that his conclusion was correct. He had used the time to try and talk himself out of it but he hadn't been able to, not one tiny bit. She needed to be the one to confirm or deny it. He would make certain that she had the chance to do that. "Trixie," he replied coolly, his eyes darker than normal, and his mouth a thin, unfriendly smile.

She stopped dead in her tracks. For the first time, Trixie realized he hadn't stayed in the kitchen to witness it. Her mind rapidly assessed the situation. He didn't look too pleased. In fact, he was looking decidedly…disappointed. No, that wasn't right. Mad? Again, not quite that. Upset? Maybe. She inclined her head to the side, tried to put her finger on the correct term but couldn't settle on one. She sucked in a deep breath, wondered if maybe he had something against body art. It could bring back memories of his time in the gang, she mused quietly but knew from deep within that wasn't the reason for his odd look. She sank down onto a chair on the far side of the table, keeping as much distance between them as possible, and smiled gratefully when Mart sat down next to her.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you that I like your tattoo," Mart mumbled under his breath. He set his coffee and his pie down. She had to grin because there was already a healthy bite taken from it. "Leave it to you to do the unexpected. But, next time, don't keep it a secret, okay? At least tell me about it."

"It wasn't a secret. Exactly," she tacked on, going for the truth. "It simply never came up." She focused on Mart but could feel Dan's eyes on her the entire time. She just knew that he heard every word that they said. She fought back the urge to shiver and made her smile that much more brilliant and happy, just to counteract the dark mood their friend was in.

"Ah, well," Mart shrugged it off. He leaned closer and whispered so only she could hear, "I'm going to let you off the hook. After all, you know something that only Di, me and her doctor know, don't you? We'll call it even…this time. But don't let it happen again." He wagged a finger at her.

Trixie crossed her heart. "If you leave my tattoo alone, I won't say a word," she bargained with a cheeky grin.

He gave a short bark of laughter, drawing everyone's attention their way, and said, "You've got it." He reached out and tugged on a curl that had escaped her pony tail.

The last one in, Jim deposited her mug of coffee in front of her and gave an answering grin to her smile of thanks. He accepted a chair at the far end of the table, away from her but where he had a good view, and sat down next to Dan. "How's the pie?" he inquired conversationally, more interested in Trixie than in his friend.

Dan lifted narrowed eyes from his prey and grunted in response. He hadn't taken a bit out of the dessert, had absolutely no idea how it tasted, and lifted up his mug to his lips, hoping to deter Jim from trying to invite him to join in any other kinds of conversations. He wasn't in the mood.

Jim's eyebrows shot up. He stared at Dan, who was hiding behind his cup, and then glanced down at Dan's plate. The pie sat, untouched. Puzzled, he studied his friend's face but couldn't come up with a reason way Dan looked different or seemed incapable of rational, coherent speak. Brian chose that moment to ask Jim a question about the house he wanted to build. Jim turned to him, lost the thought that Dan was acting unusual, and immediately became engaged in the conversation about his house.

Dan listened to the conversations around him but chose not to participate. He drummed his fingers along the table, never taking his gaze off of Trixie, who succeeded admirably well in ignoring him. It didn't bother him. He was more content to wait for the right moment. It finally came, during a lull and when everyone but him had finished their pie. "Trixie promised to let me drive the Mustang," Dan announced suddenly to the group, the first words he had spoken since they had retaken their seats at the table. "Now sounds like a good time. What do you think, Hollywood? We'll leave everyone to the clean up, take a little spin around the block, then you can drop me back off at the Manor House to get my truck. I'd like to see what that baby can do." His tone was manufactured. It was light and easy but it didn't deceive her, not for one minute.

For the life of her she couldn't remember ever promising that to Dan. Some strong feeling of self-preservation told her that she shouldn't say yes, that she definitely should not agree to it. She should make as much of an effort not to spend any time alone with him as she could. Trixie moved her chair a little closer to Honey, remembering that there was safety in numbers, and explained regretfully, "I drove Honey over, Dan. I promised I would bring her home, too."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Honey waved the flimsy excuse away airily. "I'm certain someone here will be able to bring me home." She fluttered her eyes in the direction of her besotted fiancé, who grinned winningly back at her.

"No problem," Brian agreed without hesitating. "I'll drive you home, Honey."

Okay, that way was blocked. Nothing she could do about it but accept it. Trixie didn't waste another minute before throwing up another roadblock. "What time are we heading out to White Plains tomorrow?" she inquired, putting off what she hoped wasn't the inevitable. She turned her head on Dan, gave him her shoulder, and focused on Honey.

"Sometime in the morning," Honey replied, settling back against the chair. Brian had draped his arm across the back of it. She reveled in the warmth of him around her and had no clue that Trixie was striving for any possible way to keep from being alone with Dan. "We'll make a day of the outing. Pick up the veil and the wraps, do a few other odds and ends, have lunch. That type of stuff. It should be a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to having a day off from the rest of the wedding stuff. Mother and Miss Trask have already promised to take care of any of the last minute things that need done for me."

"You'll be having a great time in White Plains and I'll be stuck at the museum. I'm going to be missing out. I hate missing out. I had to do enough of that when we were all in high school." Di sighed with longing, recalling all the missed trips and opportunities. "It's too bad the shipment for the exhibit was coming in tomorrow and not next week. I would have loved to have gone with you."

"I'll meet you for lunch," Mart jumped in eagerly, willing to miss the trip to bring a smile to his wife's face.

It worked. Her fingers tangled under the table with his. She smiled brilliantly when he pressed a gallant kiss to the back of her hand. "Thanks, Mart. I appreciate it."

Ignoring him didn't work. It only spurred him on. Trixie felt Dan's presence behind her before she saw or heard him move. Her smile stayed in place even though the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. He put his hands on the back of the chair, helped scoot it back for her. He had to apply more pressure than necessary when she attempted to use all of her body weight to keep it in its spot. One edge of his lip curled up at her small defiance. But he had the advantage. She didn't want to cause a scene in front of the others. She would agree to anything not to have the discussion with the others present. Counting on it, he held out his hand. "What do you say, Hollywood? Ready to let me drive your car?"

She gingerly stood up from the chair. Even the way he said 'Hollywood' sounded different, almost with a mocking edge to it. Almost as if he knew…something. Something that he wasn't certain that he liked or that she wanted him to know. Her eyes flared wide for a moment before she discounted the one thought that was hiding just below the murky surface. He couldn't know, she rationalized quickly. He simply could not know. There was no possible way. She stared at his outstretched hand. He wanted the keys. She couldn't not hand them to him, not without making the others suspicious, which she definitely didn't want to do, and which he was most certainly depending on. But as she regretfully dropped the keys into his hand and met his dark, foreboding look again, she had to rethink her assessment. If she wasn't trained to handle any kind of a situation, she would have shivered. Since she would be damned before she did that, Trixie straightened her shoulders rebelliously and met his impassive face with a challenging one of her own.

Dan recognized the defiance; had a very strong feeling that she already knew why he insisted on getting her alone and was most likely coming up with any number of handy excuses or plausible reasons to counteract it. Let her try. He was looking forward to it. "Let's go," he said grimly, without a trace of his usual sense of humor. He put a hand at the small of her back, didn't take the time to appreciate the way Jim's eyes narrowed into thin green slits and darkened because he dared to touch her, and not-so-gently urged her forward.

Trixie could have dug in her heels. Hell, she could have taken him down, if she had really wanted to. Since employing her hand-to-hand combat skills wasn't exactly something she wanted to display in front of the others, left with no other recourse at all, she sucked it up, as well as a fresh breath of air, and allowed him to lead her forward, all the while with a normal, placid expression on her face. Her eyes gave her away. If anyone had taken the time to really look at her, they would have seen them lighting up with the promise of battle.

"See you later," Mart sent them a careless wave and dove joyfully into his second piece of pie.

More interested in watching his fiancé than his sister, completely unaware that Dan and Trixie had waged a silent battle right before their eyes that Trixie had lost, Brian pulled Honey closer to him. With his free hand he finished off the rest of his coffee in his mug and grinned at Honey. "If you want, we can start finding some homes for your things," he offered quietly, imagining all the fun ways they could spend the time when the others had left. Unpacking was extremely low on the list.

Honey giggled, thinking that starting to unpack would really make the house begin to feel more like hers, too. She envied Brian the freedom of already living there. If she didn't think her father would have pulverized him, she would have moved in with him as soon as the house was finished, only a few short weeks ago. Her mother had quietly and quite wisely recommended the wait, though, much to her dismay. "I'd love to."

A little more aware of the tension between the departing Bob-Whites than the Belden brothers or Honey, Di stood up and walked over to the large row of windows that let in a large amount of sunlight. She brushed back a white curtain tastefully embroidered with purple grapes and green vines and watched them walk away from the house. Trixie had her hands in her pockets and was staring straight ahead. Stony. Di imagined if she could see her face it would be stony. Dan wasn't walking so much as he was stalking away from them. The keys were clenched in his fist. Worried for some inexplicable reason, Di tapped a finger against the windowsill and kept an eye on the two. "You know, guys, Dan's acting a little funny," she noted quizzically. "Did you catch that, too?"

"Really? I didn't notice that at all. Maybe he doesn't like tattoos," Honey thought aloud, earning her some odd glances fraught with disbelief from the others in the room, as well as a few low chuckles. Then she snickered at herself. If she had ever been questioned about the member of their club most likely to get a tattoo, he would have been the very first one at the top of her list. Trixie, she had to admit, would have been an extremely close second. They both had that same sense of adventure ingrained deep within them.

The quiet, murmured conversation swirled around him, with Brian and Mart completely taken aback by Di's assessment. Each of his friends offered their own thoughts on Dan, Trixie and the tattoo. Ignoring them, offering none of his own, Jim pushed back his chair and joined Di at the window. He had something much better to do than to speculate on Dan's peculiar behavior. He watched them leave or, more accurately, he watched her leave. Ruthlessly cutting down on an irrational and definitely unneeded spurt of jealousy, he catalogued each move, noticed how Trixie got into the passenger's side of the sports car. He frowned, understanding from the stiff lines of her body that she wasn't comfortable right now. There was a good chance that Honey was right. Maybe Dan didn't like tattoos. Maybe he was getting ready to read Trixie the riot act for daring to get one. Both thoughts seemed farfetched. Whatever the reason, he wished that he had insisted on going along with the two of them, even though he knew that Trixie could definitely take care of herself. He let the curtain fall back when Dan threw the Mustang into reverse and backed up. What the hell was going on? Jim couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Thirteen

Silence. There wasn't a sound other than the whir of the tires. No radio. No conversation. Nothing. To make it more unnerving, Dan stared straight ahead with a blinding intensity on the road. He never even spared a glance at her. From her shot gun position, Trixie kept a wary eye on him. When he didn't deign to give her the least bit of attention, seemed utterly focused on his own thoughts, she gave up and turned away to watch the scenery of Glen Road roll by at a surprisingly quick rate of speed. The Mustang, it seemed, was finally being allowed to breathe. He had a much stronger lead foot than she did. As the silence continued, her frown deepened and her mind whirled faster than the wheels on the asphalt. How could she change the atmosphere in the vehicle? She understood that it was of paramount importance for her sake to try and get Dan's mind off of whatever track it was currently on. Although it pained her to do it, since the last thing she wanted to do at this particular moment in time was to engage him in any kind of a conversation, she did. Pinning a surprisingly bright smile on her lips, one that didn't come close to reaching her shrewd eyes, she cleared her throat and said easily, "I like this car. Maybe I'll have to trade mine in for one after I get back to California. What about you? Would you be interested in getting a Mustang?"

Her voice startled him, made him jerk his head towards her. He wasn't fooled for a moment, not by the unblinking wide blue eyes staring at him or the deceptively innocent expression on her face. She was straining for unconcerned and relaxed but he knew better. It was blatantly obvious that she was trying to distract him. He turned back to the road just as a spear of bright golden light of the fading evening sun broke through. Squinting, wishing for his sunglasses which he had left on the dashboard in Jim's car, he flipped down his shade with a quick flick of his wrist and concentrated on the approaching corner.

Frustration was becoming stronger with each passing moment. Trixie resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him when he ignored her conversational attempt. Because he needed to be distracted, she gave it another valiant effort although she had serious doubts if her second attempt would be met with any type of success. "The dinner tonight was very good. Don't tell my mother but I think the Wheeler's current cook makes lasagna just as good as she does." Trixie laughed, light, tinkling and completely foreign to her normal one.

The little laugh grated on his nerves. He tossed her an unpleasant scowl that only made her blink artlessly back at him. She was good, he had to give her that, and had a strong feeling that she was going to try every possible trick that she possessed to keep him from inquiring about what he wanted to know. Not to be deterred, he took note of the road, saw that they were coming to the place he wanted to turn off. The Mustang let out a small protest when he began slowing it down. Casually, he flicked on his blinker and edged the car onto a small dirt road that ran into the outskirts of the Wheeler's preserve. Ignoring the multiple no-trespassing signs since they didn't apply to any of the Bob-Whites or their families, he parked the vehicle well away from the road and out of sight of any passing car. The last thing he wanted was an interruption. If any of the returning Bob-Whites saw it parked alongside the road, they would be stopping by and searching for them in a heartbeat. He shut the engine off, threw a cursory glance her way, and opened his door. "Come on," he ordered Trixie curtly.

Frustration was fast spiraling into annoyance. Since appearing sweet and innocent hadn't made a dent in his resolve she decided to unleash a little of her true feelings. "Come on," she mimicked smartly, eyes flashing and her cheeks burning a fiery red. She sat in the passenger seat, momentarily wondering what he would do if she started the car without the key, which she was more than capable of doing. He'd probably track her down and force her to talk to him, most likely with an avid and interested audience, she thought with a huff. Although it pained her to admit it, she was grateful that he was at least affording her some privacy for this talk. But that gratitude wasn't enough to make her give in. She crossed her arms over her chest, absolutely refusing to follow his orders.

Flabbergasted, Dan stared at her for a solid minute. If he wasn't so stunned by what he had figured out, he would have laughed at the mutinous expression on her face. She had gone from friendly and sweet to angry and defiant in the span of a heartbeat. It caused a much-needed resurgence of his sense of humor. Starting to enjoy the moment, realizing that she would absolutely hate his next move, he helpfully reached over and unsnapped her seatbelt and grinned in response to the infuriated glare she gifted him. Then, to add further insult to injury, he leaned over her and opened the car door for her so she had no reason to stay in the car, other than sheer obstinance. "After you," he remarked gallantly, motioning with his hand for her to leave first.

And was rewarded with one of the fiercest glares she had ever had the pleasure of giving someone. To his knowledge, not even Mart had ever been the recipient of the current fury swirling in the depths of her eyes. "Thanks," she bit out, doing her best to hold onto her fury tightly but unable to fool him. She stayed right where she was, in the passenger seat, with her arms crossed over her chest and the door flung wide open. She was determined not to make it easy for him. It was her hope that she would make him angry.

Understanding that it was going to be difficult, Dan rolled his obsidian eyes, climbed out of the driver's seat and, because he wanted to slam his door, went with the opposite and closed it with an insane amount of care. He rounded the hood, muttering to himself the entire way. By the time he reached the passenger side, he had figured out that she was attempting to push his buttons, to get him to go over the edge and forget what he wanted to confront her on. Smart, he had to admit, if a bit unlikely, and, because it would annoy her to no end, gave her the biggest, brightest, most brilliant smile that he could muster up. He offered his hand, wondering to himself if she would take it or simply bite it off.

She did neither. She stared at it, gave him a loud, incensed, "Humph," and got out of the car on her own. In direct contrast to him, she wasn't as careful with her door. She slammed it shut, the noise ringing throughout the glade in the woods and startling a flock of geese nesting near the banks of a small brook. They took to the air amidst a lot of irritated honking at having their resting spot disturbed and flew off into the evening sky.

Temper well past the point of ignition, Trixie went on the offensive, and stalked her way towards him. He was smart enough to move back from the mound of fury heading his way. "What the hell is your problem, Mangan?" she demanded, standing in front of him, a diminutive woman overshadowed by the tall, lanky man in front of her. She jabbed an irritated finger into the center of his chest, forcing him to move back a step. "Let me clue you in on my personal preferences from my friends. I usually like to be asked to do something, not ordered. I generally don't respond well to this autocratic attitude you've suddenly developed."

One side of his mouth curled up. She was always magnificent in her fury. It had been a long time since he had been the recipient of it, ranging all the way back to the first time he arrived in Sleepyside. Ever since they had settled their differences during their time together in the cave, he generally got to watch the show, not participate in it. He didn't say anything, merely appreciated it, and made a grab for her hand. When she pressed both hands tightly against her thighs to prevent him from taking either of them, he shrugged, cupped her elbow firmly and pulled her farther into the woods, his pace swift and sure. She had to take two steps to his one in order to keep up with him and not stumble.

"I also don't like being manhandled," she grumbled furiously under her breath, beyond frustrated and wishing that she was back within the safety of Brian's kitchen with the rest of the Bob-Whites. Because she didn't want to fall, she concentrated on keeping up with him. Before long, she found herself dragged into a secluded clearing, far away from the car and the road, where it truly was only them. Unless Mr. Maypenny was out patrolling, which she highly doubted at this time of the evening, they were well and truly alone. The second he stopped, she ripped her arm away from his and, with eyes narrowed into thin blue slits of righteous indignation, stomped away from him to the edge of the clearing.

He stared out into the forest which he knew as well as the back of his hands. It was a good choice, he decided thoughtfully. No one would be interrupting them. He didn't look directly at her but he watched her flounce away from him out of the corner of his eyes, the way a fox studied its prey before its first pounce, and asked a direct, if not very informative, question. "When, Trix?"

"When what?" she shot back, glaring at him over her shoulder. The understanding came from deep within that she was going to have dodge his questions left and right if she hoped to keep the anonymity of her true job. She slapped a hand on her hip, pivoted around, and glowered at him. "You're going to have to be more specific, Dan. I'm not exactly a mind reader, you know."

"And I'm not exactly an idiot," he chastised quietly. He kept his hands at his side and looked relaxed but his eyes gave him away. It was impossible to stop the million and one questions circulating throughout his brain. Of paramount importance was when.

She blew out a breath, slanted a glance up at the sky that was showing more than a hint of darkening violet to give, gathered her thoughts, and grumbled, hoping that a poke to his pride might aid her, "I always thought that the DEA taught its agents much better interrogation skills than you're employing." Trixie drew back and sneered, "To put it plainly, you suck at it."

His smile widened, uninsulted by what she had clearly intended as an insult. She wasn't going to draw him off track. He wouldn't allow it. "That's not going to work, Trix. I've got a thicker skin than that."

He was throwing up roadblocks left and right, handling everything she could dish out with aplomb and a cool composure that threatened to make her scream. There had to be a way out. Trixie concentrated on straightening the bottom of her shirt, her mind working furiously to come up with other ways to block him or steer him away from the truth. Maybe she could play on his sympathies…she mused quietly to herself. Nodding, she decided to bring up the subject at hand herself and inquired with a heartfelt sigh, hoping that she wasn't making a big mistake, "This is about the damn tattoo, isn't it?"

Taken aback by her forwardness, Dan nodded, all the while wondering what was going on in that fascinating brain of hers. With her, it could be anything. "Yeah," he replied cautiously, curious about where she was going to lead him now.

"You should have stayed in the kitchen. I suffered through enough questions there," she declared, adding in a long-suffering sigh for good measure. Trying to make her face look pitiful, she let her shoulders droop and shared, "It was awful. I knew from the beginning that making Di promise to keep my tattoo a secret would have been a waste of breath. She was going to tell everyone at some point. I just didn't expect it to be tonight." She dredged up what she hoped was a convincing chuckle, shook her head and sighed again. "Lucky me, I guess."

Dan's eyebrows lifted. She was certainly full of surprises. He hadn't expected her to actively seek out sympathy from him. It would be wonderful to see her in action some day. "Ah, Trix?" he said, finally allowing a spark of humor to show on his face and hooked a thumb in the general direction of where the house stood. "Believe me, you would much rather have me dragging you out here to ask you my questions instead of back at Brian's and Honey's house. We're alone. Whatever you say will be able to stay between you and me."

Somehow, he was actively closing down every avenue she was attempting to use. A few furious curse words rang through her mind, none of which she let loose. She wasn't frustrated enough. Instead, she chose for the moment to stay quiet, to let him take over, and didn't say a word.

Her lack of response astounded him yet again. Starting to enjoy their rather unusual discussion, he reminded her of his question and helpfully prompted her, in case she should have forgotten it, "The question was, when?"

"It's not that important," Trixie grouched lowly, purposefully mistaking the meaning of the question. "If you mean when I got the tattoo, it was right after my graduation. About four years ago…you remember, right? We graduated from our universities on the same day," she added tersely. "That's why we weren't able to attend each other's graduations and why the Bob-Whites had to split up for them." She started back towards the path, recognizing that he had more to ask but wanting to encourage him through her actions to let them be. "If that's all you wanted to know, we can start back. It's been a long day. I spent most of it making fancy things for the wedding. I'm more than ready to go home."

God, she was funny. Dan had to give her credit for conjuring up assorted ways for putting off the inevitable. Quietly, watching her retreat, gauging her reaction from her back, he questioned again, "When were you recruited?"

Only the sudden halt of her progress gave her away. She was too well-trained to do anything else but that. Never were they to discuss their agency or their work. With anyone who was not affiliated with the agency. It wasn't just a vow or a pledge. It was a requirement that was not to be overlooked or taken for granted. Ever. Gifted by having him at her back, she let the mask take over, took on a confused expression, and shook her head, sending her pony tail bouncing but not with joy. When she turned around to face him, she resembled herself as she always was. Nothing gave it away. It was daunting for him to realize that she would have fooled him if he hadn't seen the tattoo with his own eyes and understood what it meant.

"Dan," Trixie began placatingly, her tone low, even and the kind one would use to talk to an upset child who needed an extreme amount of soothing. She reached up and pulled out the red band holding her pony tail in. Instantly her curls billowed around her face, the gentle wind teasing them. She ignored them. "You are being very mysterious here. What are you talking about?"

"I'm not Jim," he informed her, smothering a chortle of glee, and kept his eyes directly on hers. He completely ignored the mass of curls rioting around her face. "Your hair has no power over me."

"What do you mea…Oh, Dan! That's just plain foolishness," she declared emphatically. Attempting to play up her attractiveness was never something she was fond of and was certainly a ploy she wouldn't use on him, of all people. It wouldn't get her anywhere. Of course, she thought with a fatalistic sigh, nothing was helping anyway. He was pursuing it with a doggedness that was remarkably annoying. "I haven't seen my parents much today. I think Moms mentioned something about watching a movie tonight if I got back in time from the dinner." A fabrication but she was willing to hide behind her mother if the situation warranted it. And she would make certain that they did watch a movie together so it wasn't a complete lie.

Seeing that she was now utilizing the brush-off technique, and quite handily, too, he reached forward, snagged the edge of her red shirt, and ignored her indignant gasp. Long fingers lifted up her shirt, allowing the tattoo to show. He tapped one star in particular, letting her know that he needed more than the pitiful amount of information she had granted him so far. "You are trying to avoid the question, Trixie."

She practically growled when she tugged her shirt back. Inside, her mind was working frantically, searching and rejecting all different sorts of outlets of keeping him from asking the one question she simply knew he was dying to. Coming back to irritated, she scoffed, "And you aren't making any sense to me at all." She started forward, determined to put as much distance between them as she could. Maybe she could walk home through the preserve, she thought wildly to herself, but instantly gave up that idea. He would only follow her. Worse, if he didn't follow, he would pick up his line of questioning at a later date, most likely in front of the others. Damn it all but it sucked being between a rock and a hard place. Seeing a small stone laying on the ground, she gave it a good kick and sent it flying.

He didn't stop her physically. Instead, he rocked back on his heels, impressed with her ability to throw up all sorts of diversions. She was proving to be more entertaining than a Broadway show. "If you don't want to talk about it here, I'll take you home, Trix. You don't have to walk there. We'll invite the rest of the Bob-Whites and have a great, big, interesting discussion right there in the kitchen of Crabapple Farm. Your parents would be there, of course. We could even invite the Wheelers and my uncle, too. Maybe Mr. Maypenny would want to come. Possibly even the Lynches. Sounds good to me. So, the question is, which one do you prefer? Here or at home?" He looked innocent but there was a mocking quality to him that she couldn't miss.

Slowly, she turned around. "Dan, there is nothing to talk about here. Not a damn thing," she gritted out, spacing the words out slowly and with force so that he could hear them. "Got it?"

"Oh, you're coming through loud and clear, Hollywood," he murmured quietly, softly, and with a menacing sound to it that had her eyes narrowing and her heart start racing, in trepidation and a little bit of fear. "Loud and clear. There's just a slight problem." He leaned forward and said in a loud stage whisper, "I'm not going to let you get away with it."

She was rapidly running out of ideas. Quickly, she tried yet another track. Taking in a deep breath, she laid her hands out, palms up, and spoke calmly and in an understanding tone. "Okay, Dan. It's obvious that both of us have been a little stressed, probably from our work or the wedding preparations or other stuff. Whatever the reason, I'm willing to completely overlook this…departure from the ordinary between us. I'll be glad to put it in the past and never reflect on it again. Let's just get back in that car and go home. All right?" She refused to plead. She would not implore. She had too much pride for that. But she hoped he took her suggestion.

"I've got to hand it to you. You're more than good, Hollywood. You've had me jumping through some pretty interesting hoops." He shook his head, leaned against a wide trunk of a tree, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and watched her. She didn't squirm, only squared her shoulders in the most belligerent of ways and stood as stiff as the tree holding him up. "But it's time to get down to business. We need to do a little history lesson here. You know I've been with the DEA for over two years now, right?"

"Yes. Of course." She tossed her head and stared at him guardedly. It was coming. She could feel it. It was that strong. She only wished that she had been successful in preventing it. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't. At least she had done the best that she could. She had tried every possible course available to her and had given it a fierce try. If he was determined to ask, there was nothing else she could to but stand and listen. And she would have to lie.

Dan continued, sharing, "I've come across many interesting people in my short career. FBI agents, CIA, undercover agents, drug dealers, lawyers, judges, people willing to make a deal to keep themselves out of jail…you know, all those types. From the admirable and honorable to the sleazy and detestable." He reached down, picked up a stick, and idly started tapping it against his palm.

The mantra that had started out as a whisper back in the dining room grew with the force of a hurricane in her mind. He simply could not know. She tried to convince herself that he couldn't know, ran through all the logical reasons why he shouldn't. Their clean-up crew was too good. Leaks simply weren't allowed. They were an ultra-secret agency and had been for many, many years. Because keeping her arms folded across her chest was more of a defense and she wasn't going to allow herself to be put on the defense, not in front of him, she kept them hanging loose at her side. "I've come across a few interesting characters myself," she agreed smoothly, willing to patronize him if that would keep him from questioning.

His smile curved up. His voice was dry. And his eyes…they were amused, highly so. "I'm certain you have."

She nodded her head sagely, feeling like an actor who had entered the stage late and wasn't being tossed the correct lines. "You were saying," she invited, forcing the words out of her mouth, and stood with what she thought had to be the most idiotic expression on her face.

"Right. We were on the subject of very interesting people." Dan dropped the stick and sauntered towards her. His grin widened when he realized that she was forcing her feet to stay still, to not take a wide step away from him. She didn't want to appear intimidated in front of him, which only made him admire her more. "Anyway, last year I met this nice woman. She was smart, fun, sweet, and very attractive. Worked for the D.A.'s office or so she told me. I'm not so sure about that now, though. We went out a few times, you know, that type of stuff. Basically, we had a good time together."

"I don't really want to know about your love life," Trixie informed him, confused and nervous about where he was taking the conversation. Through narrowed eyes, she watched him carefully when he circled around her. "Believe me, Dan, I don't want to know. You can share it with Mart if you really need to tell it to somebody."

"Hey, mine has to be better than yours." Close enough to her, he gave her a chuck under the chin, watched those baby blues flare before she quickly doused them, and continued, "This is what I found interesting. Ashley liked tattoos, too. Had a pretty little rose, right in the center of her back." He reached around, tapped the exact spot on Trixie's back, and didn't say another word, only studied her with the same amount of intensity and interest that a scientist gives a specimen on a slide.

She knew an Ashley. Smart, sweet, very attractive as Dan had said, with a tattoo of a rose in the center of her back. Worse, Ashley spent most of her time completing her work out on the East Coast. It was entirely feasible that they could have run into each other. Delightful, she thought sarcastically with an inward groan, wondering when the next time she would be running into that particular member. "That is…interesting," Trixie murmured softly, allowing none of her conflicting thoughts to show on her face.

He saw the hand start to nervously tap against her thigh. It gave her away. Teenage Trixie had never been able to counteract the urge to move when in a dangerous or intense situation. It looked like she hadn't exactly conquered that little quirk of hers as she had grown up, either. "We didn't date all that long, though. Turns out she didn't work for the D.A.'s like I originally thought. I think I already alluded to that, though." He shrugged a shoulder. "I found that out one night after our third or fourth date. We had dinner, went back to my place, got a little drunk. She doesn't hold her alcohol well at all," he put in in an aside, remembering that particular night fondly.

No, Ashley wasn't very good with alcohol of any kind. She tended to avoid it like the plague. Trixie's heart started to pound but she kept herself outwardly calm. Her fingers began drumming a rapid beat against her leg. "Again, Dan, you can share this with Mart. I really, really, and I do mean, really, don't want to hear anything more about your love life." She gave an exaggerated shiver, hoping to put him off, and held up her hands to ward him off.

It didn't work. Dan's grin magnified right before her eyes, an odd mixture of devilish and cunning. "That night was very informative for me. Since you don't want to know everything, I won't bore you with all the details; only the important ones. You see, it was the first time I got a really good look at her tattoo. I wonder…now what was really interesting about that tattoo?" He rubbed his chin, pretended to ponder the matter and slapped his forehead as if he had just recalled it. "I remember now. An infinity sign was tattooed right in the middle of one of the rose petals. Interesting, huh?"

Damn. It. Damn it all. It was definitely her Ashley, all right. Trixie's face went stoic. Her hand stopped tapping. Her body went rigid. Her mouth formed a thin, white line. She didn't say a word. Simply couldn't. The infinity sign was their agency's symbol. Simple and to the point, it meant that they were there to protect. Anything. They were there to serve, as long as they were needed. Every single agent had that sign placed somewhere in their tattoo.

He didn't miss her reaction, catalogued each and every nuance, and arched one eyebrow high, telling her plainly that he hadn't missed a thing. "That's not all, Trixie. There were also these initials on her tattoo. They were italicized and traveled up the stem. I thought they were a rather odd group of letters to have together. They didn't make much sense to me. I told her that, too."

"Hmm," she mumbled out when he paused because she couldn't come up with another coherent, let alone sensible, to say.

He waited a beat, letting the pressure build, before he inquired, "Do you want to know what the initials were?"

She wanted to yell out a strong and powerful 'No!". Instead, she was stuck with feigning nonchalance and replied in an uninterested tone, "I guess." She rolled a shoulder, looked slightly less than bored, and held her breath, already knowing the identity of the three letters.

Dan could have drawn it out, pretended he couldn't remember the letters or offer her a bunch of fake ones until he suddenly recalled the real ones. While the thought of teasing her was appealing, he wanted to see her reaction more. Without any hesitation, watching her closely, he shared, "CDA, Trix. They were CDA."

Because she didn't have any possible source of defense, she cleared her throat and replied easily, "You're right, Dan. That sounds like a pretty interesting tattoo." She painted an innocent expression on her face, not admitting that she had the same letters and the same sign in her tattoo, not by choice but by requirement of all agents, and didn't bring up the fact that he would have seen the exact same details on hers only a mere hour earlier. Attempting to divert his attention, she focused on the woman. "Do you still talk to this Ashley?"

"I'm not finished yet, Trix. Give me some more time." He made a tsking sound, brushing her question off easily. "Ashley was very informative that night. She told me more about the tattoo and what it meant. I have to admit that I wasn't inclined to believe her at first. I mean, get real. Some kind of a super secret agency? An agency that had the luxury to do anything they wanted, as long as it was in the pursuit of justice?" He released a small, humorless laugh. "What the hell was that? As I told her, this wasn't a James Bond movie or a spy novel. I didn't believe her at all."

It was worse than she imagined. Inwardly, she was strangling one Agent Ashley Taylor. She wasn't an active agent, was a member of their 'clean-up crew', and had an excellent reputation as such, but she should certainly know better than to expound on their agency to anyone, no matter how handsome or persuasive they were. Trixie couldn't believe that she had told Dan everything about their agency.

"Looking back, she should probably have been insulted by my reaction," he said with a wink. "Instead, she laughed at me and proceeded to tell me more. She told me about her real job, something about taking care of the little messes left behind by the other agents. As I said before, I didn't believe her. I hate to say it but I thought that she was rather delusional. Cute but very delusional." He paused and eyed Trixie coolly, noticed how quiet and still she had become. It was unusual to not see some part of her in motion.

They stared at each other. From the thin slits of blue staring back at him, Dan realized that she was attempting to come up with a new course. There wasn't one. She was sunk. "I was proved wrong about a week later. It happened when I was doing surveillance. I caught the tail-end of it. There was a gun shot from a spot close to the building I was watching. Being the conscientious agent that I am, I ran over to investigate. There wasn't much I could do. I recognized the victim right away. He had been set to stand trial for a murder. Brenton was his last name." He saw Trixie jerk a little at the mention of the name, figured she knew exactly what he was talking about it. "Before I could do anything, this dark SUV showed up and out jumped a team of people. Ashley was one of them. She took charge, told me to get the hell out of there, get back to my surveillance post, and forget that I'd ever seen a thing. Since she was in the company of other agents wielding weapons, I reluctantly did what she asked. The next day, the news reported his death as a drive-by with no witnesses."

No red tape was one of their many perks. They had the power to take out the evil in the world, by any means possible, through any avenue deemed necessary, and only had to justify it to their Chief if he insisted upon it. It was hard to keep her face devoid of any emotion. The case hadn't been one of hers but Brenton, the accused murderer, had killed a friend of an agent. For some unknown reason, he had been released on bail. Not surprising, he hadn't lived long enough to stand trial. And Ashley and her team had covered it up, apparently right in the front of Dan's watchful eyes.

Dan didn't comment on her lack of response, guessed correctly that she was digesting all the information he was sharing with her. "I stopped by Ashley's apartment after I finished my surveillance because I wanted to question her about the scene but she wasn't there. In fact, nothing was there." He had used a little trick he had learned when in the gang and had jimmied open her locks. It had been pathetically easy to break into her apartment. It had been completely empty, shockingly so. "She had completely disappeared from the New York area. I tried to call her cell but always received the notification that her number was no longer in use. I tried emailing her but didn't get any response that way, either. She was simply gone."

She had probably been reassigned, and speedily so, especially if her superiors found out about her ill-advised sharing of the true nature of her job with a DEA agent. "Sorry about that," Trixie mumbled by rote, her features schooled, her voice even but unable to come up with anything else to say.

"Win some, lose some," Dan decreed jovially and shrugged his shoulder, taking the loss of a potential love interest with the proverbial grain of salt. "But enough about Ashley. Now it's time to focus on you." His dark eyes leveled on her like the barrel of a shotgun. She went ramrod straight because it was finally coming. "Tell me why you have the exact same markings on you, Hollywood. You have the same initials, the same infinity sign. Tell me why."

A vivid curse, one she rarely uttered, one he had never heard her use before, flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her face flushed a vivid pink. But she couldn't give him any answer. "I can't tell you, Dan," she uttered through fiercely clenched teeth.

"I think you can." He moved in, hoping his closeness would help her spill the myriad of secrets. They were there, bubbling and brewing just below the surface. He could almost touch them, almost see them, almost knew exactly what they were. He hastened to assure her, "I'm not going to tell anyone, Trix. I just want to know."

The battle warred within her. She always had trouble discriminating between Trixie Belden and her secret agent persona. She wasn't one who found it easy to keep secrets, especially from the ones she loved and respected. And she absolutely, positively despised lying. Unfortunately, there wasn't any other option for her. She simply could not tell him, no matter what he knew. "Dan," she said warningly, ordering him with a dark look not to press it any further.

"You're not going to say anything, are you?" He stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets. His gaze should have pierced her with its intensity.

"I can't say anything to you," she shot back quickly, going with the only thin grain of truth she was able to offer him. Lost in the obsidian eyes studying her, she couldn't look away. There wasn't anywhere else to look. "I can't tell you _anything_," she stressed fiercely.

"I see." Dan gave a curt nod and finally slid his gaze away from her. He stared off into the distance, at the woods he knew as well as the back of his hand from his time living with Mr. Maypenny, and thought about all he knew about Trixie, before he focused on her again. "Since you can't tell me, I guess I'm not left with any other option. I'll have to make a pretty good guess. It was California all along, wasn't it? Remembering back, I would have to say it had something to do with the criminal justice scholarship you applied for. It always seemed odd to me that they would only give you a full scholarship if you went to California University. They wanted you from the beginning, didn't they?"

She stood perfectly still, unwilling to give in and yet unable to deny any of his points. It was like standing on the edge of a sharp sword. Either way she went, she was going to get cut. He wouldn't believe a lie, would only be disappointed in her if she tried one. And she couldn't possibly tell him the truth. Since she couldn't say anything, ethically or personally, she settled for her last and rather pathetic line of defense: silence.

He let the silence continue while he pondered the matter further. Something Ashley told him on that long-ago night came back to him. He pointed a finger at her, not in accusation but in anticipation for a new piece of the puzzle he put together. "The more I think about it the more sense it makes to me that they wanted you away from us. Something else Ashley told me is that the CDA generally recruits agents who don't have a lot of family. She said that she grew up in foster care and didn't have any relations at all. You must be the exception. You most certainly are not alone in the world. You have a lot of connections. Most of them live on this road."

Trixie didn't move although her mind worked furiously, imagining many creative and various ways of torturing poor Ashley, well aware that she was the reason why she was in such a predicament in the first place. Stupid, stupid agent. Stupid, stupid fate for putting Ashley and Dan together in the first place. And stupid, stupid her for ever thinking she could successfully keep the truth of her job from her friends in the first place. She'd managed to do it for over six years, which was an incredible feat in itself. None of the deep, dark thoughts showed. There wasn't an ounce of expression on her still face.

He steepled his fingers under his chin, mulled it over further. She was telling him so much simply by not saying a word. Although she hadn't said a single word, had stood as still as a stone statue the entire time, he had what he wanted. The pieces were falling into place beautifully. Her huge fight with Jim must have been the catalyst that she had needed but he decided at the last minute not to bring it up. It would be like poking hot coals into her eyes. He didn't want to do that. "That's it, then. They wanted you as far away from New York as they possibly could get you. My God," he breathed out, beyond amazed at his realizations, and tapped her forehead. "Trixie! You must have the most remarkable stories stored up here. They probably make my DEA stories pale by comparison."

The only sounds in the small glade came from nature. The sweet call of the birds nesting in the trees. The soft, light spring breeze as it blew by. The gentle ripple of the lazy, bubbling water. Trixie didn't hear a thing, certainly didn't take any time to appreciate it. Neither did Dan. They were too intent on each other. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only about sixty seconds, she offered haltingly, "Let's just use our word of the moment and say that life in California has been…interesting."

He let out a chuckle, understanding she had confirmed his suspicions without actually saying a word, and pulled her into a strong hug. Lowly, he whispered into her ear, "I'm proud of you, Trix, and, I must admit, a little jealous."

"Jealous?" She pulled back, smoothed a hand over her curls, stunned by his declaration, and inclined her head to the side.

Dan chuckled again. She looked adorable when she was bewildered. "Think about it, Trixie. I only work for the boring DEA. I can't imagine what it must be like to have the power and jurisdiction that you have." When her mouth fell open, he held up his hand to ward off any response, "No need to confirm or deny. I promise I won't bring it up again. However, in exchange for my never-ending silence, there is one thing you could do for me."

The teasing glint in his eyes helped her relax. She didn't feel like she was a hostile witness on the stand any longer. A stronger gust of air rattled the fresh green leaves and caught her hair. She wrestled it back, tucked the curl behind her ear. "What's that, Dan?"

"You told us at lunch yesterday about your, ah, 'issue' at work last week but I know there has to be more to it. Everything I've recently learned about you puts the whole situation into a much different light." He put both hands on her shoulders, looked deep within her eyes, saw with relief that she wasn't as shadowed as she had been when she first came home. "What really happened?"

"A former…investigator went bad. He's the one who died," she explained without hesitating. Even though Dan knew and it wasn't through any fault of hers that he knew, she still couldn't tell him all and skimmed over the details…again. With a tiny, humorless laugh, she added, "Let's just say that it wasn't fun looking down the barrel of his gun before he ultimately met his demise."

"I'm relieved you only ended up looking." The new information sunk in, made him see more into Trixie than he had expected. He hid a shudder at the thought at what could have happened, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least she was fine. While he wanted to know more, he highly doubted if she would tell him. He dropped an arm around her shoulder and tried anyway. "So, tell me more."

She was surprised by how much she would have liked to have shared it all with Dan. Her lips curled up at the end even as she shook her head. "Can't. I'm sorry." It surprised her more because her apology was one hundred percent sincere.

"Classified," Dan murmured understandingly. He squeezed her shoulder and suggested, laying the subject to rest without a touch of remorse, "Well, we've got a few more days to relax before the wedding starts. Want to move onto something else?"

"Gladly." Trixie closed her eyes, more relieved than she had been when Jim had diverted everyone's attention from her tattoo earlier. When she opened them, her smile bloomed beautifully across her face. "What do you want to talk about now?"

"Well, the way I figure it, we're going to have to come up with a plausible excuse to share with the rest of our friends," Dan said, his voice laced with regret. Looking back on his actions, he admitted to himself that he hadn't been the most suave or sophisticated when it came to getting Trixie away from the others. He was certain that more than a few of the Bob-Whites were curious about their abrupt departure from the dinner.

Trixie's eyebrows snapped together. She hadn't thought about the aftermath or what any of their friends could be thinking. "Gleeps!" she exclaimed, grimacing in dismay. "You're right."

He smiled benignly at her. "When am I ever wrong?"

Giggling, she gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. "Don't start sounding like Mart," she advised him, shivering dramatically. "I already have one truly annoying brother. I don't need another one."

His deep chuckles rang throughout the glade. Grateful to have the unpleasant question and answer period over with, finding it incredible that his suspicions had been confirmed without any verbal answers from her at all, Dan hooked an arm through hers and started leading her towards the car, at a much slower, more relaxed clip than they had done on the way to the glade. He wasn't in any hurry to leave; she wasn't, either. "I'll shoulder the blame," he offered gamely.

"As you should," Trixie countered smoothly, staring heavenward as if she was praying for patience but having a tough time keeping her lips from twitching with amusement. "The current predicament we find ourselves in is all your fault, you know."

"As much as it hurts to agree with you, you're right. It is my fault." Seeing into the future, Dan frowned. He wondered which one would ask them about it first. He wouldn't be surprised if there were already a barrage of text messages or voice mails waiting for him on his cell and wished he could go back in time and be a little cooler. The Bob-Whites were nothing if not fierce in the questioning of their own. He should know. He had just employed the selfsame tactics with Trixie. "So, as I said before, I'll take the blame. We can tell them that I really don't like tattoos."

Trixie stopped dead in her tracks. One moment she was staring at him with the most incredulous expression on her face; the next, a burst of delighted laughter bubbled up and out. "You have got to be kidding me," she exclaimed when she regained the ability to speak. "That's got to be the lamest excuse ever, Dan. No one is ever going to believe it."

He couldn't argue with her. It did sound lame but it was the best he could come up with. Thinking quickly, he added, the words leaving more than a hint of distaste in his mouth that he resolutely ignored, "I'll toss in a side story about my time in the gang, play up on their sympathies." Dan shrugged a muscled shoulder, secure in his abilities to swerve them away from asking any more questions about the true story behind his reaction to her tattoo. A confident grin worked its way across his handsome face as he promised suavely, "It'll work, Trix. Trust me."

"If you say so," she retorted, somewhat dubiously. She opened her mouth, couldn't think of anything else to say, and closed it with a snap. There wasn't much choice but to leave the matter in the hands of fate. It would have to do. If their friends were suspicious, there wasn't anything that she could do about it except hide behind Dan's explanation. It felt surprisingly good to leave the matter in his capable hands and not have to bother about it herself. Together, they strolled back down the path, each lost in their own quiet contemplations, and made it back to the car. Trixie climbed into the passenger seat, more content and comfortable now than she had been on the ride in. Dan knew the truth. Even better, she hadn't had to compromise her integrity or her honor. He figured it out for himself. Trixie leaned back into the seat, smiled serenely at him as he started the car and threw it into reverse. Before long, they were back on Glen Road. Idly playing with her seatbelt, she watched the scenery as it went past. This time she enjoyed it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Fourteen

Despite the fact that she had already completed her morning run, showered, eaten a hasty breakfast, and hiked up to the Manor House, Trixie came to the end of the path with the same excited bounce to her step that had been present from the second she had hopped out of bed that morning. Honey's house loomed ahead of her on the early spring day. A grin of pure delight spread across her face, making her eyes sparkle with verve and anticipation. It was the first day during the wedding week that she didn't have going inside that house, helping Honey make frilly objects for the wedding or listen to the others discuss the wedding. The thought of the road trip was preferable. She would much rather leave the creative process to those with more talent, such as Miss Trask, Madeleine Wheeler, and her own mother, who would be joining the others in the midmorning to complete the few odds and ends that needed finishing. "Thank goodness," she muttered to herself, almost rubbing her hands together in pure, unmitigated glee. "If I had to look at one more piece of tulle or ribbon, I think I may scream."

A whinny came in the direction from the stables, abruptly cutting into her thoughts, and making her halt her progress. Honey had been keeping her so busy that she hadn't had a chance to take a horse out for a ride yet. It was almost unfathomable. Here it was, already Thursday, and she hadn't even put a booted foot inside the stables. After glancing at the time on her cell since she rarely ever wore a watch, she saw that she had more than enough time to pay the neglected horses a short visit. Without a second thought she changed direction and headed towards the stables.

The comfortable smell of horse assaulted her the second she pushed back the wide front door. With a mile-wide grin on her face, she practically skipped down the aisle, greeting each and every horse with a hearty pat and a whispered 'hello' until she made it to her all-time favorite. "Hi, Susie," she murmured quietly, stroking the silky black of the mare's head with a soft and tender hand. The simple touch made the years fall away, reminding her so much of her teenage years when the she had spent as much time here as she had in her own home. Susie showed her appreciation by nuzzling into Trixie, making her giggle. "It's so good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't been up to visit you before this. I've missed you so much."

Susie whinnied, stomped her foot, and nodded her majestic head as if in answer. Her large brown eyes stared soulfully back at her favorite person. Trixie giggled happily again and rubbed her face against the velvety smoothness of her neck. "I wish we could go out for a ride right now. I have to go on a shopping trip to White Plains with Honey soon. If we get back in time I'll take you out for a ride," she promised, resting her head on Susie.

Jim stopped in the doorway. The sight before him made his breath catch. A petite blonde, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a light sweatshirt, cuddling with the large horse. It was obviously a reunion of two who cared for and respected each other very much. He almost stepped back out into the daylight but decided against it at the last moment. He had come to the stables to do the exact same thing she was doing. Moving on silent feet, he came up behind and cleared his throat to announce his presence, correctly assuming that she probably needed a few seconds to compose herself before responding to him. "It sounds like you're having the same conversation I was planning on having with Jupiter," Jim declared, stopping by the stall. He rested a hand on the closed gate and gave Susie an absent pet. Susie offered him an affronted look, almost as if she was asking why he dared to touch her when her person was near. "I feel like I've neglected him this time around."

"Good morning, Jim," Trixie replied when she was certain her voice wouldn't come out as needy or breathless. Even with the surprising success of their truce, the first few moments weren't exactly easy on her. However, it was for a different reason now than it had been. She was smart enough to realize the truth of that although she wouldn't admit it, not even to herself. Her heart didn't beat with trepidation anymore at the prospect of running into him or, gasp, of having to engage in some kind of a stilted conversation together. Instead, it was beginning to beat with anticipation, a much more exhilarating and stimulating emotion, and one more reminiscent of her teenage years than the more recent adult ones. The knowledge left her in a bit of a quandary, the reason why she didn't want to acknowledge it. She wasn't certain which one was safer to her equilibrium.

Jim glanced in the direction of Jupiter, who started pawing at the door to his stall the second he sensed his presence, which was the closest way the proud animal would get to begging for attention. "Looks like Jupiter wants some attention, Trixie. I'm going over to say hi to my boy," he said with an apologetic grin and walked to the horse a few stalls down.

Standing on her tiptoes, Trixie peered over Susie's bowed head, watched as Jim uttered soft, quieting words to the impressive horse who wanted nothing more than to be taken out for a good ride. It had always been a pleasure of hers to observe Jim with the horses, especially that particular one. She remembered her ill-advised and ill-fated ride on him from that long-ago July day. An appreciative and admiring sigh worked its way out from deep within. Realizing that there maybe more expressed on her face than she wanted him to see, she quickly turned away before he could see it and began fussing with Susie's mane. Searching for something to say, to break the silence and also stop her from engaging in another round of untimely preoccupation with him, she finally settled on the simple, "Is anyone else here yet?"

"Only Brian," Jim answered easily. He offered the apple he had brought with him from the kitchen, chuckled as Jupiter made short work of it, and ran a hand over his head. "I have a feeling our leave time has been pushed back. Brian arrived about half an hour ago. My mother cornered him the second he walked through the front door and immediately invited him in to breakfast. She wanted to talk more about the wedding. He wasn't allowed to say no."

Madeleine Wheeler was like a locomotive when it came to the discussion of her daughter's wedding. Brian wouldn't have stood a chance at refusing. It would have been an amusing sight to see. The sedate, serious, and well-respected doctor taken down by an enthusiastic mother of the bride. "Surprise, surprise," Trixie remarked sarcastically, earning a lopsided grin from Jim that made him look more like a teenager instead of the successful corporate lawyer that he was. It made her stifle a gasp, made her remember the many times the two of them had spent together in the stables, either preparing for a ride or coming back from one. It made her want…she smothered the thought before it was finished, certain she could never see that desire come to fruition, and concentrated on Susie. Agreeing to a truce hadn't merely cracked open the closed door between them. It was doing a whole lot more. It took a considerable effort but she managed to focus on most of what he was saying.

"Tell me about it." Jim gave in and rolled his eyes. "I decided to skip out on breakfast myself. I grabbed a granola bar and glass of juice in the kitchen and came outside." He didn't add that he had caught sight of his curly-haired neighbor heading into the stables, which was the real incentive for his visit. The temptation to find out what she was doing had been too much. It couldn't be resisted. Not now, not when they were being friendly with each other. He leaned against the wood, crossed his arms, and added, "The breakfast could go on for awhile. My mother and my sister also managed to drag my father into the dining room, too."

"Well, if Honey and your mother have both Brian and your trapped…I mean, sitting with them in the dining room, then I have a very strong feeling that we may be getting a later start than expected." Her dimples winked with her sudden smile, causing him to suck in a deep breath. She missed seeing it because she reached behind to give Susie one last pat and moved back into the aisle, her hands in the back pockets of her blue jeans, completely unaware that the innocent move accentuated a few of her more enticing assets. It drew Jim's eyes to them before he made himself look directly at her face and not anywhere else. "It's too bad that there isn't enough time to go for a ride," Trixie bemoaned regretfully.

"I'm taking this boy out when we get back from White Plains." He was privy to Trixie's plans, having heard Trixie's conversation with the little mare. Clearing his throat, feeling an odd nervousness that he hadn't experienced in years, he opened his mouth to suggest that they take that ride together when Regan entered the stables, a covered plate in his hands.

"Well, well, well," Regan greeted them with a frown but his eyes were a twinkling, merry green. They always gave him away. He could never quite pull off that fierce countenance that he needed to make his point to the seven young adults who used to virtually live in his domain. Rocking back on his heels, being careful not to let the delicious omelet the cook had whipped up for him slide off his plate, he added with a hint of sarcasm, "Look who's finally remembered that this place exists. It's been a long time."

Trixie started, startled by his presence, and dropped her gaze from Jim. She couldn't shake the feeling that he had been about to ask her something important. Tucking back a curl still damp from her recent shower, she laughed nervously. "Oh, hi, Regan," she said, feeling exactly like she had that first time she had met him. "Sorry about that. Honey's been keeping me very, very busy. Believe me, I would much rather have been spending more time in here than doing some of the things that I have been doing this week." She offered him a tentative smile, finally noticed the spark of humor in his eyes and visibly relaxed. Even though she was just shy of two weeks of turning twenty-five, she couldn't help but feel flustered and fidgety in the groom's presence.

"Yeah. I know it's been a busy one for you. At least you've been helping Honey out with the wedding. I can understand that." He turned his fierce look on Jim next. "What's your excuse, Frayne? You haven't taken out a horse since Monday when you went riding with that nephew of mine, who's also been conspicuously absent from here. What have you been up to this week?"

Most people would have found it odd to have an employee talk in such a way to the son of his employer. Not Jim. The horses had always been completely under Regan's charge from the very first day he had been hired, which had been before Jim had been adopted into the family. Unperturbed, Jim shrugged a shoulder and allowed a tiny smile to grace his lips. "A little work but don't tell my mother. She didn't want me or Dad to do anything this week. We've managed to sneak in a little, though. It'll make next week easier when we return to the office," he shared in a conspiratorial whisper that had Regan chuckling. "I've also spent a good bit of time in contact with my contractor. We're going to be breaking ground soon."

"That's right. I seem to remember hearing something about you, Ten Acres and a house." Regan rubbed his chin sagely and nodded his acceptance of the idea, deciding that he would be make it a point to ride up there every day once the construction started. "Good for you, Jim. It's about time that piece of land had another home on it."

"Thanks, Regan." Jim let go of Jupiter, who neighed in protest, and walked over to the center of the aisle, joining the other two. "I'll be spending more time here to oversee the building too. I promise I'll make up for some lost time with the horses then."

"I'll hold you to that." Carefully, he eyed the two standing in front of him, considered his options and decided to go for broke. At the very least two of his beloved animals would be exercised. If anything else came out of it…well, he wasn't averse to pushing them into spending time together. "Since both of you have been rather remiss in giving the proper attention to our pride and joys here, I think you should make up for it. When are you going to do that?" He included both of them in his stare.

"Oh, I'm hoping to take out Susie once we get back from White Plains," Trixie answered immediately. "If that's all right with you, Regan," she tacked on when he didn't answer right away.

Just what he wanted to hear. "Any time is fine with me, Trixie," he answered, flashing her a wide grin, pleased with her answer and delighted that she had volunteered. "Susie has missed you terribly. I think it's a terrific idea. Jim here feels the same way about Jupiter, right?" Regan nudged him with his shoulder for an answer, intentionally putting him on the spot. As far as he was concerned, it was past time that the two stubborn individuals in front of him put aside their differences, whatever they were, and start patching things up. He didn't mind giving them a not-so-gentle prod in what he perceived to be the right direction.

"I was already planning on it," Jim answered easily, making Trixie's eyes flare wide at the thought. He made it a point not to look directly at her, concentrated on the widely smiling groom instead, but saw the flash of surprise on her face from the corner of his eye before she swiftly willed it away.

"Good. Then it's settled. When you get back from White Plains, I expect you two to give these horses some of your precious time and take them out for a nice, long ride. They miss you." Satisfied with the results of his meddling, Regan headed down the aisle, humming a jaunty tune the entire way. When he reached the doorway to his office, he called back over his shoulder, "You can start making up for some of that lost time right now by giving the horses some fresh grain. They could use it. I have to see about some paperwork, kids, and eat my own breakfast. I'll see you later."

Trixie's mouth fell open. She watched him disappear through the door, not so discreetly close it, which was unusual in itself since she couldn't ever remember Regan closing his office door, seriously impressed with the way he had managed to direct things his way. Not only had he neatly maneuvered them into sharing a ride together, alone, something they hadn't done since the summer she had moved out to California, he had also given them a chore at the same time. "Well…I…umm," she mumbled incoherently, words momentarily failing her, and bit her bottom lip.

"Don't worry, Trixie," Jim offered, throwing her a sideways glance and wanting to set her at ease. "We'll be fine. The horses know what to do. So do we."

"Yeah. I know." She cocked her head to the side, flabbergasted by the turn of events. Not only was she going to spend a good portion of the day with Jim on a shopping trip to White Plains, they now had a ride scheduled together, all thanks to one mischievous groom. Will wonders never cease, she mused thoughtfully before adding, "I'm surprised that Regan had it in him. He's never tried something like that before with us."

"It's got to be the Irish in him." Feeling like humming a tune himself, Jim cut down on the urge and motioned for her to move ahead of him. "Let's get the horses their fresh feed and then head back to the house. That should give Honey and Brian enough time to have breakfast with my parents. They should be ready to leave by then." Hopefully. If his mother didn't hold them captive in the dining room.

"Dan should be here, too. He's coming with us. We can't leave without him," Trixie inserted as she walked past him.

The mention of their dark-haired friend brought Jim up short on his trip to the grain. The odd way Dan had maneuvered Trixie away from the others the night before came back to him, as did the last view he had of the two. A stiff Trixie. A frustrated, potentially furious Dan. What could it mean? It was peculiarly interesting to note that both Dan and Regan had a way of manipulating a situation. Must be a family resemblance or that touch of Irish in their blood, he thought before he brought up his unanswered questions. "Trixie," he called out, waited for her to stop. When she did, he shared, "Di said something last night after you and Dan left Brian's. She thought that Dan was acting different."

Trixie felt herself straighten. Since she was near a window that faced out towards the driveway, she stood on her tip-toes, looked out as unobtrusively as possible but didn't see him. He didn't materialize out of nowhere to help her out. Cursing him, Trixie realized with chagrin that it was up to her to weather the first round of questioning. Shouldering the blame, indeed, she thought with an indignant huff. He already wasn't doing a good job of it. "Why would she think that?" she inquired carefully.

"Oh, I don't know," Jim responded, totally tongue-in-cheek, and one eyebrow arched high. "Maybe it's because he stalked his way to your car. Or maybe it was the way you walked. You looked very uncomfortable, Trixie. Or tense. We couldn't see your face but you were definitely experiencing some strong emotions. What was that all about?"

Leave it to Jim to figure out exactly how she had been feeling. Uncomfortable and tense were a few of the stronger feelings that had assaulted her. Trailing a hand along a stall, absently petting a sweet and pleased Lady, she offered the explanation Dan had come up with, "It's not anything serious, Jim. It turns out that Dan isn't a big fan of tattoos. He said that they reminded him of his time in the gang. He also took a leaf from Dr. Belden's book and grilled me on it. He wanted to know who did the work and that it was done in a safe place."

"Right." Jim mulled over her answer, astonished that Honey had been correct in her assessment. Dan didn't like tattoos? Somehow, it didn't quite fit with the man that he knew, that they all know. Like Honey, he would have voted Dan the most likely to get a tattoo out of their small group. A puzzled frown on his face, he wasn't quite ready to let it go. It just seemed…off. He searched her face carefully. "Is that it?"

Trixie felt the familiar tell-tale blush start to work its way across her face. Jim was staring at her, concern evident in his emerald eyes. Concern. For her. Good Lord but the truce was turning out to be more than she had ever expected it to be. Even the conversation they were having was easy and free, the way it used to be, the way it should…She shook her head, shutting off that train of thought.

"There's more?" Jim misinterpreted her shake, incorrectly thought that she was telling him she had more to say.

"What? Oh, no!" Trixie exclaimed ruefully, chuckling in embarrassment at herself. She cupped her cheeks with her hands, which she knew had to be bright red, and chuckled again. "I'm sorry. I was thinking about something else. You know me. Sometimes my mind tends to wander. No, there's nothing more. It was a pretty boring talk, all things considered. Really, all Dan wanted to do was lecture me on the risks of getting a tattoo." The lie rolled easily off her tongue, much to her chagrin.

"I didn't think Dan knew how to lecture." Jim's brow furrowed into thin lines, but not because of Dan. It was the simple statement she had said. _You know me._ The phrase ran continuously through his mind. A week ago he would have denied that statement, shot back a quick and rather pithy no, that he did not know her. He couldn't answer that way, not anymore. Not after the past few days. For some inexplicable reason, they seemed to have started down a path that was much different from the solitary, separate, stagnant ones they had been on for far too long. And, he reluctantly confessed, the more time he spent in her company, the more he wanted it to continue.

"He's not as accomplished at it as some others but he's not all that bad, either," Trixie replied with a generous roll of her eyes, amazed that she was actually teasing Jim, of all people.

Jim couldn't believe that she was making a joke with him, and only him, as the recipient. He rewarded her efforts with a laugh, well aware that he was one of the others who had been quite accomplished at giving her lectures, even though he hadn't given her one in a very long time. "You're right about that." He glanced up at the digital clock radio that sat on the counter and reluctantly brought an end to their discussion. "We should probably hurry if we want to get the horses fed before breakfast is finished."

"You're right." She saw the clock and hid a gasp of astonishment. Somehow the time was dwindling away. It astounded her to see how much time they had already spent in the stables. Quietly, they fell into step together and reached the counter. She bent down to retrieve a bucket.

"I'll get the bucket," he said, reaching for it at the same time she did.

Their hands touched the handle of the old bucket at the same time, his larger hand on top of her smaller one. Instantly, Trixie's body temperature started soaring, made her heart start to pound and her blue eyes deepen. She mumbled something jumbled, jerked back, and managed to stumble over an object in her path. Looking down in dismay, expecting to meet the uncomfortable concrete floor at any possible second, she saw that it had been his booted foot she had tripped over.

Instinctively, his hand snaked out, caught her around the waist before she fell, and held on to her. Tight. He tried to convince himself that he held her that tight in reflex, that he would have done the same for Honey or Di or any other female who happened to falter in his path, but it was lie, a great, big, fat one. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice hoarse and husky at the same time. He didn't relinquish the touch. He couldn't. It wasn't in the realm of possibility. Looking down, he saw that her head was bent, just below his chin. Her curls were still damp from her morning shower. The fruity scent of her shampoo wafted up, tickled his nose. That alone was enough to make his mouth start to water and to send him into sensory overload. Her breathing came in short, raspy pants. He was sure that it matched his own.

Her study of the rather plain floor wasn't all that interesting, not when she had him right by her side. She brought startled eyes up to his, not realizing that her hand was resting lightly around his side. If someone were to peek through a window, they would have sworn that the two were getting ready for a passionate embrace. "No, no problem at all," she stuttered out stupidly, her cheeks deepening with that hated red pigment Mother Nature had so generously granted her with. Amazingly, she didn't make a move to leave. She was trapped in the moment, incapable of intelligent thought, let alone intelligent speak, and more than willing to stay exactly as she was.

They were silhouetted like that for what felt to be an endless period of time but was really only a few precious seconds, each staring at the other. When Jim realized that he wasn't looking at her entire face any longer; was, in fact, looking much too long and much too hard at her unpainted and beckoning lips, remembering the far away time when he had had the right to kiss them any time he wanted to, he let go. That right wasn't his, not any longer. There wasn't any guarantee that the right would ever return. Because he wanted to touch her, and quite badly, he settled for hooking his thumbs in the loops of his jeans and concentrated on a deep, fortifying breath.

Severely needing composure, Trixie tucked back a wayward curl that had escaped from the thin black headband that attempted to keep her unruly mass under some semblance of control, and bent down to pick up the object that had started the whole fiasco in the first place. She held the bucket for the grain up. "Here." She cleared her throat when it sounded raspy and tried again. Her second attempt wasn't much better. "I've…ah…got the bucket."

"The bucket." Jim stared at it blankly before remembering their promise to Regan about giving fresh grain to the horses. Shaking his head, hoping to bring back some semblance of rational thought, he accepted it from her and concentrated, hard, on filling it up with the scoop, all without saying a word or looking at her. He wasn't certain what would come out of his mouth or how his body would react to her. Needing the distraction, pathetically grateful for it, he headed down the aisle to feed the first horse.

While Jim filled the first bucket, Trixie searched out a second one. She quickly took his spot the second he finished and started filling it up. The task should have helped her forget about their close call only minutes earlier but it didn't. After putting two scoops into the bucket, she slid a glance his way and watched him surreptitiously walk away, towards Lady's stall. It was only when he was nearly done that she remembered her chore. Whirling around, hoping he wouldn't realize that she had been contemplating him instead of completing her chore, she hurriedly scooped out the grain and turned to bring it to the next horse, all without meeting his gaze.

"I'll carry the buckets," Jim offered lowly when he reached her. He grabbed the bucket from her grasp before she could protest and replaced it with the empty one. He had to stay busy. It was vital. He had to give his body and his mind time to calm down. There was something remarkably calming about the simple, mundane chore, even if the object of his reflection was only a stone's throw away. "You take care of filling them up."

Normally she would have argued that she was more than capable of carrying a bucket and emptying it out. Today, she decided it would be more prudent to simply let him do it. Her senses were still on red alert. She hadn't regained her balance yet, was astounded that a mere touch like they had shared could throw her so far out of whack. Dumbly, she nodded and bent her head to her task, sneaking glances at him when she knew he was busy and wouldn't catch them. They continued their job in silence, working swiftly and in tandem. When all of the horses were fed, she put the scoop back in the barrel and closed the top. "I guess we should see if Honey and Brian are ready to leave yet," she said, satisfied that her voice didn't wobble and sounded relatively normal.

Jim glanced out the window near Jupiter's stall, saw sunlight bouncing off of a familiar black truck, and grabbed onto the topic with both hands. "It looks like Dan's here now. All we're missing is the happy couple. Then it'll be time to leave."

In remarked contrast to most of their time in the stables, they walked out in silence, both uncertain, hesitant and cautious. Jim kept a good, safe distance between them, which Trixie didn't try to breach. She was more than comfortable with it. Together, unaware that their steps matched perfectly, they stepped through the wide front door, out into the gorgeous spring day, and walked towards the dark-haired man leaning negligently against Jim's SUV.

"I was beginning to think that we weren't going," Dan joked when the two appeared. He wondered at the flash of red still visible on Trixie's face or why Jim seemed oddly quiet. His first thought was that they had been fighting but he had to rethink it. There wasn't any tenseness or terseness about them, which left an unanswered question for him that he wasn't sure if he could broach. What had they been doing in the stables? Dan frowned at the building and pushed himself off of the vehicle to meet them. "Even with you two showing up, we're still two short. Where are the soon-to-be newlyweds?"

Jim inclined his head towards the house. "I guess they're still inside with my parents. I skipped out on breakfast this morning."

"Ah. Wedding talk," Dan inferred correctly with a devilish grin. He slipped on his shaded sunglasses. "Well, since I was the first one here I call shot gun for the road trip."

Trixie wasn't about to argue that she had been the first one to the Manor House. Instead, she smiled weakly and nodded, more than content to sit in the back with Honey and Brian. It would hopefully be much better for her well-being. About to say something, she got distracted by the opening of the front door. "Oh! There they are," she called out, waving towards the couple.

Honey beamed back at them. Brian didn't seem to have quite the energy for beaming. He was wearing that pained, long-suffering, oh my goodness I just sat through an entire meal talking about the wedding expression that only a true groom could ever wear successfully and with true feeling. He threw a furtive glance back at the house, almost as if he expected the capable and aristocratic hands of Madeleine Wheeler to reach out and snag the two of them back inside for a lengthier discussion, before he grabbed Honey's hand and practically dragged her over to the safety of the others. "Have you been waiting long?" he asked, hoping that they could get in the car and get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

In years past, when things were more normal and simple between them, Dan would have responded with a teasing joke, something along the lines of Jim, Trixie and the length of time they had spent alone in the stables. He hadn't felt the urge to poke fun at the two of them in the longest of times. It stunned him to note that the joke was lying on his tongue, wanting to be said, but he swallowed it back, aware that neither of them would appreciate it now. In fact, it could cause the two more harm than good. "We haven't been waiting too long," he responded diplomatically, mentally patting himself on the back for his restraint. "I only got here a few minutes ago."

"I came here earlier," Trixie offered and pointed towards the stables. "I stopped in to visit Susie and ran into Jim and Regan. Regan roped us into feeding the horses for him." For some reason she didn't add that Regan had also cornered the two of them into going for a ride later. She chewed on her bottom lip, threw a furtive glance at Jim, and waited to see if he would bring up that little tidbit. Pure relief overcame her when he didn't.

"That's my uncle for you," Dan remarked cheerfully. "Always looking for ways to put us to work."

Trixie crinkled her nose at him and turned to Honey. "We finished right before you and Brian came out of the house. It was great to visit the horses. I loved spending some time with Susie."

Jim held his breath, wondering if she was going to mention the ride when they got back. If she did, he realized that at least one, if not all three of them, would volunteer to go with them, for a variety of reasons. When she kept that interesting tidbit to herself, he relaxed and focused on his sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law. With flickers of humor dancing in his eyes, he inquired innocently, "How was breakfast?"

"Oh, it was wonderful!" Honey gushed, smiling brilliantly. She tucked her arm through Brian's, unaware that her fiancé had not enjoyed the breakfast as much as she had. She had the ability to wax poetic about the wedding at any given moment. Brian, on the other hand, did not possess such a skill. "We went over the last few things that need to be taken care of. Mother, Miss Trask and Mrs. Belden are going to finish them today. There isn't much that has to be finished tomorrow, except for setting everything up in the garden. Oh, and we also have the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner, too."

When Honey swung her large doe eyes towards him, prompting him without words to continue, Brian nodded in assent. "Mrs. Wheeler assured me that they have everything under control," he shared because he had to say something. There wasn't much else he could add since he had spent most of the breakfast sharing pointed glances with Matthew Wheeler.

Honey snuggled closer to him and giggled. "Madeleine. You're going to have to get used to calling my parents by their first names, you know," she told him, which made Brian blanch. The thought of calling either Wheeler by their given name was daunting even though he was going to be marrying their cherished and only daughter.

Dan clapped Brian on the shoulder, in jovial sympathy. "You can always do what Mart did. He simply didn't call either of Di's parents by anything for the longest time. He told me it was simpler all around for him."

Jim glanced down at his watch and fished his keys out of his pocket. "We should probably hit the road, guys. You want to do some shopping and have lunch at that new diner in White Plains, right, Honey?"

"That's the plan! Trixie is coming with me. We're stopping by the bridal shop to pick up my veil and their wraps and then I have to hit another store. You three are going to be on your own until we meet at the diner," Honey announced merrily and grabbed the door handle to the back of the car. "I'll sit in the middle," she volunteered and scooted her way onto the seat. Brian followed behind her and Dan, who had already staked his claim on the passenger seat, got in on his side.

Trixie ended up walking around the car to sit in the back, next to Honey and right behind the driver's seat. Right behind Jim. She tried not to be too obvious as she watched him take his spot and fire up the engine. Luckily for her, Honey and Brian were engaged in a murmured conversation and Dan was focused on finding the best possible station on the Sirius music network. It gave her a few precious seconds to observe him without anyone being the wiser. Muscled shoulders hidden behind a gray sweatshirt. Thick red hair that her fingers remembered the feel of all too well. A handsome profile. She dropped her gaze when Jim put the car into reverse and looked over his shoulder before backing up. She focused on latching her seatbelt and added beautiful emerald green eyes to his repertoire.

Needing something else to look at besides what was right in front of her face, she took in the inside of the car. Dark gray interior. Clean, without an ounce of dust or dirt anywhere. And it still had that new car smell. She breathed it in, appreciating it, and caught sight of the stables before the car headed down the hill. The recent memories were vivid and strong and included a few things she had never expected to experience with him again. First, there had been a free and easy talk between her and Jim, followed by plans to go riding…together. Most disconcerting had been the almost embrace brought on by the potency of their unexpected touch. She was going to have to really digest and examine her reaction to it. Never, in a million years, would she have predicted any of those three things occurring. Tapping a short, unpainted nail along the armrest, she looked beyond the wedding and wondered where the aftereffects of the truce would take them.

Special thanks to three terrific editors (my sister, Pam and bundysbaby). I appreciate all the help you've given me and your terrific ideas and corrections! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!


	15. Chapter 15

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Fifteen

Honey carried the veil in its plastic encasing with infinite care, almost as if she was afraid it would tear if she held it too tight. She stared down at the delicate, charming concoction and imagined what it would feel like to have her entire ensemble for Saturday ready. Perfect was the only adjective that came to mind. Perfectly perfect, she added, giggling at herself and feeling deliciously and decadently foolish. She found it hard to believe that her wedding was a mere forty-eight hours away. After all year of planning and preparation it was amazing to know that it was finally all coming together. Grinning in delight, she walked out of the bridal shop with a bounce to her step. "What a beautiful day," she murmured to Trixie. "I hope the weather is just like this for Saturday." Her low heels clicked her way merrily down the trio of concrete steps, echoing her mood wonderfully.

"My mom has been watching the weather reports like a hawk," Trixie shared, answering Honey's giggle with one of her own She had two bags in her hands, both carefully packed with the matching gold wraps for her and Di. She came down the steps and joined Honey. Sunlight filtered through the line of strategically planted trees overhead, casting contrasting images of light and shade along the sidewalk. To ward off the brightness, Trixie moved into the shade. "I'm happy you have your veil back, Honey." She nudged her friend and teased gently, "Tell me. Are you going to try on your dress as soon as you get home or are you going to be able to wait a few minutes?"

Honey tapped her chin, pretending that she had never contemplated the idea. "Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea. I could definitely do that. Now that I have the veil, the only thing I would be missing is my bouquet!" Her laugh ended on a low, dreamy sigh. "I'm certain I could talk my mother into helping me. It won't be a hardship for her to do at all. Maybe your mother would still be there. She could help, too."

"Moms has been dying to see you in your dress. She would love to be there." Trixie fell into step next to Honey while they left the bridal shop behind. About to expound more on the subject, she stopped, both figuratively and literally. A familiar feeling came over her, one that she had experienced many times over the years, in her fledgling career as an amateur detective through her high school years and in her professional one. She trusted her feelings, had learned not to overlook them or question them. Ever. They had never steered her wrong even when everything had looked dark and bleak. Right now her innate and powerful sense was telling her that someone was watching her. Frowning, she slid a glance off in all directions. Front, back, left and right. All she saw were happy, strolling shoppers mixed in with annoyed drivers who were staring miserably at the unending stream of traffic on the busy city street and most likely cursing out the quickly changing traffic lights. Nothing ominous. Nothing bothersome. Certainly nothing worrisome. Her frown deepened because her feeling didn't merely persist. It grew and deepened.

Honey didn't notice Trixie's preoccupation with her surroundings or the fact that her friend had moved closer to her. "Jim parked his car over there," she announced, pointing towards the municipal parking lot on the corner across the street. "We can put our items in his car before we go to the next shop because he gave me his spare key. After that, we can walk over to the diner. It's right next to the parking lot. The guys are going to meet us there for lunch, you know."

"Let's go," she replied with forced cheer, her radar on red alert for whatever was wrong. With blue eyes narrowing and an expressionless face, she waited next to the bubbling bride-to-be for the light to change before walking across the street. As unobtrusively as possible, Trixie glanced over her shoulder again and studied the path they had left. Unfortunately, she couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary.

Cheerfully chattering away the entire way, completely ignorant of Trixie's sudden concern, Honey led the way over to the car. When they reached it, she extracted the spare key Jim had given her from the bottom of her oversized purse and opened up the back of the vehicle, all without stopping to take a breath. With great care, she hung up the veil and smoothed her hands over it, making certain that it was placed where it wouldn't wrinkle. She accepted the bags from Trixie and laid them flat on the floor. "You know, Trix," she shared in a whisper, hardly daring to believe that it was all really happening, "I woke up this morning and had to pinch myself. I'm getting married in two days! In two days! How amazing is that?"

"Amazing," Trixie repeated absently, only listening with half an ear, frustrated with her fruitless search of the surrounding area. Still nothing. She put a hand at her hip, wished she had her trusty gun on her, just in case it was needed, and frowned off into the distance.

"We'll finally be sisters. In fact, all three of us will be! You, me and Di will finally all be Beldens, all at the same time." Honey reached up and closed the back with a decided thud. Remembering all the good times she had shared with her nearest and dearest friends, she leaned against it and reminisced, "I can remember dreaming about the three of us being sisters, and I mean for real, legal sisters, from the time I was thirteen years old. It's something I've wanted forever. Now it's finally happening. Oh, Trixie! It's going to be perfectly perfect."

"Perfect," Trixie repeated again, aware that she was parroting back Honey's words, and quite idiotically, too.

Too engrossed in sharing her thoughts, Honey didn't catch on. She wasn't paying the least bit of attention to Trixie. "We finally started down that path when Di and Mart got married last year. You and Di have been sisters for nearly a whole year with me an almost one. Now I finally get to join the ranks and add Belden to my name. How cool is that?" She absently traced her new initials on the back of slight coat of dust Jim's car had picked up on the way to White Plains. M.G.B.

"Very cool," Trixie murmured in what she hoped passed for an interested voice. She thought she caught a movement across the street and to the right. Squinting, she eyed the spot, certain she had seen something. Whatever it was made the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Laughing, Honey tucked her arm through Trixie's and started dragging her away before she could get a better look. "Now, there is one more thing I need to do. You can't come into the store, though. You'll have to stay outside. Do you see that store up ahead?"

Because Honey had distracted her, the shadow was no longer where she had seen it. Reluctantly, she dropped her focus and followed Honey's fingers. "I see it," she said curtly, frustrated that she had lost the only visual she had been able to make.

Honey tugged Trixie's slightly protesting body onto the sidewalk. "I have to pick up a few…items in that store. One of them is Brian's wedding ring. You know we decided to pick out each other's rings, right? The other things are a surprise. You can't come in. I don't want to spoil it for you." She implored her with her eyes to understand.

"Okay." The fact that she was banned from the store was a relief. It would give her some alone time to try and figure out what the hell was going on. The feeling hadn't dissipated. In fact, it was growing in intensity, telling her plainly she wasn't mistaken. Someone was out there, hidden somewhere in the busy shopping section of White Plains. That someone was watching them. She let herself be dragged forward and only offered an occasional hmm or repeated a short phrase as Honey carried on an entire one-way conversation, too happy and excited to realize that her friend wasn't actively participating or offering her more than a cursory response.

When they reached the newest shop, Honey tucked back a strand of her lovely hair. "Umm…I called before we left to check on my purchases. Everything they have for me is ready. All I have to do is pick it up, pay for them, and then I'll meet you back out here. You really don't mind waiting outside, do you?"

Her curls bounced with a negative shake of her head. She had already catalogued the area, saw that there certainly wasn't any danger to Honey in entering the store alone. The counter was visible from the outside so she would always have Honey in her sight. "I'll be fine," she declared more forcefully than necessary and waved Honey away.

As soon as Honey had skipped into the store, Trixie parked herself next to a lamppost. Her new spot afforded her a great view. She could watch Honey's every move in the store, as well as keep a sharp look-out on each side of the road. She concentrated the most on Honey, wanting to make certain that her friend was safe, and saw Honey patiently wait in line for her turn. Of course, her friend was beaming with excitement, happy and thrilled over receiving her order. Trixie wanted to share in it but couldn't. Not yet. Not until she had figured out what was going on.

Her cell phone started to vibrate, startling her into awareness. Fishing it out of her pocket, she glanced down, saw the new text message and who it was from. The ominous feeling immediately disappeared but not the apprehension. It only grew. At least now she knew who had been watching her. Now it was a simple matter of why. Lips moved as she read quietly it to herself. "Look to the right."

Trixie followed the directions perfectly. Her eyes collided with the shaded ones half a block away. Since she didn't want to give up her spot, she motioned for him to come to her. Of course he took his sweet time getting to her. By the time he had crossed the street and approached her, her senses were no longer on high alert. Instead, she was fast reaching annoyed, an emotion she never handled well. "Max!" she hissed out when he finally stood next to her. "What the hell are you doing here, in White Plains, of all places? Have you been following me?"

"I've been trying to get in touch with you for the past few days, Belden," he answered caustically and held up his cell phone to illustrate his point. "It seems someone has been avoiding me or, more accurately, my attempts to contact them for the past few days. At first I thought that maybe your phone didn't work anymore or that maybe your little town of Sleepyside blocked out our amazing satellite signals that make the entire world accessible to us but you proved me wrong after that one text message you deigned to send back to me."

She refused to feel guilty. Absolutely refused to. The way she saw it she hadn't done anything wrong. "I told you before I left San Diego that I wasn't going to be answering any calls. At all," she said through clenched teeth. She forced a normal smile to her face when Honey waved at her through the window of the shop, obviously curious about the man Trixie was talking to, and whispered furiously under her breath, "This isn't a great time. Honey is picking up a few things and then we're supposed to be meeting my brother and a few friends for lunch."

"Ah. The wedding," Max answered knowingly. He steepled his fingers under his chin, stared at her deeply, and started off with a safe topic. "It's this Saturday, right?"

"And I am not missing it," Trixie stated firmly, her blue eyes gleaming with an intense light. "I won't miss it. I don't care what has happened. I'm not leaving Sleepyside."

Max chuckled, deep and low, unsurprised by the swift conclusion she had jumped to. It was the wrong one but he could understand her thinking. In fact, once he had taken the time to analyze why she had been avoiding contact with him, it was the only reason he could come up. Her family and friends were too important to her, had been and always would be. She was the only agent he had ever come across who couldn't entirely put their work first. She had obligations. He realized that was something he was going to have to learn to deal with, too. Maybe she could give him a few pointers, he mused to himself. "I'm not asking you to do that. In fact, if you had bothered to get in contact with me, you would have known that's not what I want at all," he couldn't resist tacking on.

His words set her at ease…a little. She hoped he was telling the full truth and that she wouldn't have to pick up and leave Sleepyside right after the wedding. Like always, her curiosity got the better of her, exactly what he had been counting on. "What do you want, Max? And how on earth did you find me?"

Max shrugged. "Our phones have that awesome microchip implanted in it, Trixie. You know any of us can be traced to any spot in the entire world at any given time. Well, at least our phones can," he amended with a charming grin. "There's never a guarantee that the person we want is located at the signal point."

"Max," she muttered, scowling. Needing to do something, she turned her phone off and slipped it back into her pocket. "I know how our phones work. Get on with the rest of it."

"Since I wasn't that far away from New York, I figured I would pop in and treat you to a visit because you weren't calling me back." Washington, D.C. hadn't been too far away, only a hop, skip and a jump on the train. He had been on his way to Sleepyside when he noticed that she was on the move. It hadn't taken much to change directions and follow her to White Plains, instead. He had hoped to catch her alone but realized with chagrin that wasn't going to be a possibility.

"All right." Trixie's blue eyes were bright with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. While she didn't like having her privacy impugned upon, she knew Max well enough to know that he wouldn't have bothered her with an actual visit if he didn't have an exceptionally good reason. "You had a hit and run, huh?"

A 'hit and run' was what the agents referred to as a short, sweet and to the point assignment, one that didn't require much preparation or follow-through. They were some of the easier missions. "Very short," he replied truthfully. "In fact, the travel time took longer than the actual mission."

That typically happened with the missions, too. She curbed her curiosity, knowing that questioning him about it on the sidewalk with people milling around wasn't the best option. Trixie glanced around, looking for another familiar face, and was surprised when she didn't see his partner milling about. "Is Jocelyn with you?"

An odd look filtered across his face before he smoothed it away. "Not this time. She wasn't involved with the mission." He moved closer. "In fact, that's part of what I wanted to discuss with you."

Bewildered, she wondered why Jocelyn wasn't with him. The two were inseparable, had been since the moment she had first met him at the agency in San Diego. They never went on a mission without the other. Never. It was almost as if they could only perform well if they were together. The Chief never commented on their relationship outside of their work mainly because it never interfered. In fact, it appeared to only make them stronger. "Is she all right?" she questioned, all sorts of scenarios going through her mind. "She's not hurt?"

"No! She's not hurt," burst out of him. "She's fine, Trixie. Nothing's happened to her. In fact, she's great. But that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You see…"

"Hey, Trix!" Honey interrupted them, a brown handled shopping bag with the store's logo emblazoned across it. She approached the duo and looked curiously at the handsome, solemn man next to her friend. Forgetting her manners, eyes narrowed and a decidedly unwelcome look on her face, she demanded fiercely, "Who is this?"

"Oh, Honey!" Trixie declared, having forgotten all about her friend in the store. She gave what she hoped was a convincing laugh and proceeded to make the introductions. "Honey Wheeler, I'd like you to meet Max Donovan. He works with me back at the agency. Max, this is the newest member in my family."

Honey didn't acknowledge the last part of Trixie's introduction. "I've heard a lot about you." Honey's unwelcome look turned to a hostile glare in the blink of a hazel eye. In fact, a militant look was working its way across her face. She sucked in a deep breath, gathered the courage to speak her mind, and then sailed on without preamble, "You are not taking her away from us, Mr. Donovan. I won't let you. Trixie isn't going anywhere." She slapped a hand on a hip and proceeded to glare at the man in front of her. She almost stomped a foot on the sidewalk but stopped herself when she realized how childish that would be.

Max had heard many things about Honey Wheeler over the years. Trixie had always used the nicest, most flattering words to describe her dear friend. She had never, ever alluded to the fact that she could be as fierce as a mother lion protecting its cub if the situation warranted it. Chuckling, he held up his hands, admitting defeat, and quickly assured the almost-snarling woman in front of him, "I assure you, Miss Wheeler, I have not come to take Trixie away. She's not going to miss her wedding. You have my word."

Only slightly appeased, Honey narrowed her flashing hazel eyes. "Then why are you here? San Diego is an awful long way from New York. I can't imagine you've come over to have a cup of coffee and a doughnut with her."

Max smiled reassuringly at her. "I had some business close by and thought I'd stop in and visit Trixie for a few minutes. I was able to get a good read on her location because of our awesome cell phones." He showed her his, offering more than a cursory explanation to the shrewd-eyed lady staring back at him. "She's has been ignoring all of my other attempts to get in contact with her."

"That's true," Trixie admitted with a blush. Neither Honey nor Max paid her the least bit of attention, both equally intent on the other. Honey was in battle mode while Max was attempting to appease, especially since they were out in the open.

"And?" Honey demanded, tapping a heel against the sidewalk. A shopper walked by, jostled her. She tossed the person an irritated look and moved closer to Trixie, holding onto her elbow possessively. It was easy for Max to interpret that she wasn't letting Trixie go anywhere, not without a huge fight.

"I promise you that I am not here to take Trixie away. You have my word on it. I have a few questions for her. No more, no less," he assured her, giving her his best, most charming grin. It would have reduced Jocelyn to a drooling heap but had no apparent affect on one annoyed and suspicious Honey Wheeler. "It's about our last assignment together," he tacked on, somewhat truthfully.

"The one where one of the investigators died," Honey recalled in a quiet voice, some of the battle leaving her stance. "Right. Trixie told me a little bit about it the other day." She narrowed her eyes at her friend. "But only a little. She's awfully tightlipped about any of her adventures nowadays."

"She doesn't have much of a choice." Max spoke up in defense. He trusted Trixie implicitly, without any doubts or hesitations. In fact, she was the first and only person he and Jocelyn thought of when they were both aware of the change coming their way. "Anyway, there isn't anything nefarious going on here, Miss Wheeler. All I need is a few minutes of your maid of honor's time. That's all. After that, I'll be gone and you can go back to your plans. With Trixie." He held his hands up, smiled at her again, and hoped that she would accept his declaration.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. Honey studied him intently, noted the sincere expression on his face. He didn't appear to be lying. Satisfied that he was telling the truth, she gave one curt nod of her head and smoothed out her features. "I don't think we got off on the right foot, Mr. Donovan," she said after a minute, her cheeks blooming with a rosy pink of guilt. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and held out her hand. "Hi. I'm Honey Wheeler, Trixie's best friend. You can call me Honey."

He accepted the hand, was delighted to notice that she had a firm handshake. "I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you over the years, Honey," he said, making small talk while Trixie was lost in the dark, uncertain how to handle having her two worlds meet.

"And I've heard a lot about you, too," Honey remarked cheerfully. One of the things she remembered was the fact that he was extremely involved with another of Trixie's friends from California. Romantically involved. Because of that, her smile was even brighter. "We're on our way to the diner over there." Honey pointed helpfully in the direction. "It has terrific food in it and reminds me of our diner back home. We'll also be meeting my fiancé, my brother and another friend over there for lunch soon. Do you want to join us?"

Trixie's face revealed her shock. She made herself stand perfectly still and waited for Max's response while her heart began to beat quickly. There was no way she could stand an entire meal with the mixed company of her friends and her workmate. No, no, no, she wanted to cry out in heated denial. Instead, she stood quietly by and hoped that he could read her mind.

Of course he could. Spending a prolonged amount of time with Trixie and her close friends wasn't on his agenda. "That's a very kind offer but I'm going to have to pass," he declined with a small, disappointed sigh. "I'll walk you two over to the diner, if you like. Then I just need a few minutes of Trixie's time. I only have a few hours before I have to catch my plane for home."

"That's fine. We'll miss you, though," Honey remarked politely. She began leading the way, talking animatedly the entire time. She asked Max different questions about California, which he answered easily, and stopped when they made it to the diner. "It was so nice meeting you," she said, giving him a brilliant smile.

"The pleasure was all mine." He nodded once in farewell. "Enjoy your meal. I'm sure it's going to be better than the food they serve on the airplane."

Honey glanced at the diner. Three very familiar looking faces were sitting at a table in the corner, right next to a large window that faced the street. "Oh, look!" she declared, pointing to her fiancé inside who waved back at her. "The guys beat us, Trix."

"Lovely," she grumbled under her breath and saw with chagrin that Honey was correct. Brian was staring at them with open curiosity. Dan, who had the most inside information on her, was giving her a piercing stare through the thick panes of glass, obviously wondering who the unknown man was with her. She couldn't get a handle on Jim. He was looking their way but didn't have an ounce of expression on his face.

Honey didn't hear the sarcasm in her reply. "It is lovely," she agreed wholeheartedly. "I'll tell them you'll be in in a few minutes. I'll be glad to order for you, too, if you like."

Trixie mustered up a tiny smile, wishing that she could simply vanish into thin air. She wasn't certain who she should be the most furious with; Max, for showing up on her home turf, or fate, for throwing all of them together in the same place. At least Mart and Di weren't inside. She doubted if her almost-twin would have the patience to stay inside. He would probably have inserted himself into their discussion. "Thanks, Honey. I'd appreciate it," she responded because she had to say something.

"Consider it taken care of." Honey turned to Max and said, "It was actually nice meeting you once you told me that you don't need Trixie for an assignment. Thanks for not taking her away from us. You would have had quite a fight on your hands if you had tried to." She turned on her heels and sauntered towards the front door of the diner.

"I'm sure I would have." Impressed, he watched her enter the diner through its glass doors. "I have a feeling she may have permanently wounded me if I had tried to make you come with me," he said, only half-joking. She was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Get to the point, Donovan. We're alone now." She turned her back to the window, the only privacy she could give herself, and felt four pairs of interested eyes boring a hole straight into her back. She didn't need to look to see that Honey was briefing the guys on the identity of her guest or that their suspicions and interest grew with the new knowledge.

For the first time since she had met him, he looked nervous. It was an emotion she had never seen him express before. They had been through some serious and life-threatening times over the years. Whatever it was, it was big. Pitching her voice lower, she inquired urgently, "What is the problem, Max?"

"It's not exactly a problem," Max hedged. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, took a deep breath, and then blurted out, "There's going to be a slight change at the agency. I wanted to update you on it so that you're prepared for it when you come back to work. That's one of the things I wanted to tell you."

Instantly alert, her back straightened. Cocking her head to the side, she stared at him quizzically. "What happened?" She couldn't hazard a guess. She hadn't even been gone for a week yet. What the hell could have happened in the time she was gone?

He actually toed the ground, which really made her wonder about what he had to tell her. "Umm, it's like this," he muttered, a slight flush smearing his face. "You know that Joss and I are together, right?"

"I've known that from the first moment I saw you two. It was pretty obvious that you two were in love, even to a lowly intern," Trixie remarked, laughing a little to put him at ease. She had never, ever known him to be unsure of himself. It didn't sit well upon his broad shoulders and was incongruous with the sophisticated and confident man that she knew him to be.

"Yeah, well, we received a bit of a shock the other day. We weren't exactly expecting it, you know." Max swallowed convulsively. He was still having difficulty believing it, as was Jocelyn. It was going to bring about a significant change in their lives. Huge, even. But wonderful, a tiny voice inside his head reminded him. Absolutely wonderful.

"Tell me," she ordered him.

"Joss is pregnant," he blurted out bluntly, saying the words that were becoming easier and easier to speak. He hadn't seen her since he had left for his short mission, had been in contact with her each day, and hated every single second of the time that he was away. He wanted to be with her.

Trixie's mouth fell open. "Oh, well," she mumbled, shocked. "That is something, then. Congratulations, Max. You're going to be a daddy!" A joyful laugh came out of her mouth. Smiling widely, she gave him a great big hug. "It's terrific news. You and Jocelyn are going to be wonderful parents."

"Yeah. You're right. I don't know about being wonderful parents. We're going to do our best." Telling someone else made it even more real and more amazing. Never had he and Jocelyn discussed the possibility or ever expected it to happen. They had always been careful, had taken the necessary precautions. It just proved that birth control methods weren't one hundred percent effective, exactly as the doctors proclaimed. Now that their methods had failed and the unexpected was now here…they were left in a bit of quandary. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "This is where you come in."

She stepped back, idly smoothing back an errant curl, and grinned, finding a whole vein of undiscovered humor in the discussion. Her blue eyes lit up with it, making them sparkle as bright as the beams of sun warming them. "Well, I'm not certain what I can do about that, Max. Having a baby seems to be something that should only pertain to you and Jocelyn, you know," she shared, her mouth twisting with mirth.

"You're right. Most of it is just for us, as you said, but, well…" At a loss for words, he closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. There was nothing he hated more than a rambling explanation that never ended. He was well aware that he was in danger of doing just that. "We wanted you to let you know about the baby. In fact, you're the first person we've told."

Being told that Mart and Di were going to be parents had been amazing. Hearing that two of her good friends from California were joining their ranks was astonishing. Finding out news like that twice in one week was practically unheard of. "This is hilarious. I'm starting to feel like a fertility fairy, spreading joy and babies everywhere I go," she chortled with glee, rocking back on her heels.

She surprised a laugh out of him. "What the hell are you talking about, Belden?" Max wondered, staring at her oddly when she continued to laugh in delight.

"Oh, it's my brother and his wife. They are expecting, too. I found that out the other day," she said with another laugh. "I'm going to have to warn Honey and Brian. If they spend too much time around me, they may be next."

His smile was genuine, touched his eyes and softened his features. "I'll be certain to share that with Joss the next time I talk to her," he remarked dryly, picturing her reaction. It would make her laugh, too, most likely a much-needed one. She didn't handle change well.

Her giggles slowly died down. "As great as this news is, I know it's not the reason why you tracked me down today. It can't be. You could have waited until I returned to California to tell me this." Serious, Trixie twirled a strand of blonde hair around a finger. "What else is there, Max?"

He waited until the sidewalk was relatively clear of people. Moving a little closer, he stated, "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet."

She looked up. As understanding dawned, her mouth fell open. "Ohh," was drawn out of her, long, low and astonished. "I do see," she breathed, shaking her head and sending her curls dancing. "I didn't realize it at first."

"Joss is going to have to resign." He stated the only decision they could come to aloud, giving words to Trixie's sudden realization. A pregnant CDA agent was unheard of. There was simply no way Jocelyn could do her job, not without putting her unborn baby within the potential line of fire. Neither he nor Jocelyn were willing to let that happen. "We want to tell the Chief together. However, before we tell him the news, we need to ask you something first. That's the reason why I've been texting, calling, and finally resorted to tracking you down."

Instantly serious, all laughter gone, Trixie nodded her head. "What do you need me to do?"

"I can't go into too much detail here," he informed her, glancing around at the passing shoppers. With their low voices, no one could possibly hear what they were saying but he wasn't about to take any chances. "Jocelyn's resignation will take effect immediately. I'll end up resigning, too. However, I'm going to be staying on with the agency until the matter of the disk is resolved. They've found out some pretty interesting information on it so far even though it's not completely decoded it yet. Once it's finished, we're going to need to start acting on it as soon as we can."

She hadn't given the disk a passing thought since she had returned home. It had been regulated to the back of her mind, well away from her thoughts. "Okay," she replied, letting all the information he was sending her way sink in.

"You don't have to worry about the disk right now. There'll be time for that when you're back in California. We'll table that for now." He slipped off his sunglasses and stared directly into her face, wanting to see her reaction. "What Joss and I want to ask you is if you'd agree to take her position right away, starting the second you return to California. If you agree to it, we would tell the Chief when we meet with him tomorrow. You are our first choice. It would also help soften the blow."

She bit her bottom lip, considered the offer he was making her. Jocelyn and Max were always their team's leaders. Always. If he was making her this offer, it meant that they had complete faith in her. Chief Ogilvie would miss Jocelyn but would appreciate the fact that they had found a replacement for her. And, once Max resigned, which would come sooner rather than later, she would essentially become the leader. "You want me to take Jocelyn's position," she reiterated carefully, wanting to restate everything clearly.

"Yes," he answered immediately, seeing the different emotions flashing across her face. She saw more than the mere offer, he could tell, not that that surprised him. Her intelligence and quick-thinking was one of her best assets. "That's correct. You would be my partner until I am able to leave the agency. You would also be in charge of our team after I left."

Her thoughts were whirling. Trixie stared across the street, watched a young mother make a mad grab for a toddler who tried to make an escape for it. His yowls of frustration cut through the air, grew in intensity when his mother cut off his flight for freedom and carried him down the sidewalk, kicking and screaming the entire way. Soon Max and Jocelyn would be in such a position, taking care of a precious little one, who would most likely do the best that he or she could to give them a run for their money. It helped make her decision. Turning back to Max, she murmured, "Yes. You can count on me. I'll do it."

Max breathed a silent sigh of relief. Jocelyn was always his first choice of a partner but, if he couldn't have her, he wanted Belden. In a rare show of emotion, he embraced her and whispered into her ear, telling her plainly how much her answer meant to him, "Thanks, Trixie. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, well," she mumbled, embarrassed. She hugged him back and let go. "Thanks for thinking of me."

"There wasn't another choice," he replied truthfully. Before Trixie fully digested his words, Max caught the interested looks of the group inside the diner. "I've taken up too much of your time already, Trixie. It looks like your friends are far past the point of curiosity. I think they may dive through that window and pry you from me if you don't get in there soon."

Trixie felt her eyes widen. She had actually forgotten about them. More importantly, she had forgotten that they had a front row seat to their discussion. "Gleeps!" she exclaimed, worrying her bottom lip. How the hell was she going to explain this one?

"I've always loved that expression of yours," he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Her back was to the group. She couldn't see them. "How do they look?" she wondered aloud, uncertain if she wanted to turn around or not.

"Fine, really," he answered. Schooled in reading the feelings of others, he added, "Your brother looks the calmest of all. The dark-haired one…Mangan, right?...has an odd sort of a smile on his face. He's finding the entire situation amusing. Your girl Honey thinks I've lied to her and that I'm going to steal you away right from under her nose. She's frowning. You're going to have to set her at ease right away. And the redhead…" He knew who he was and of the important part he had played in Trixie's life before the CDA.

It wasn't 'gleeps' this time. "Damn," she swore, hoping that their little tete-a-tete hadn't ruined the progress of their truce. She rubbed a hand over her heart, which was beginning to pound in trepidation.

"I think he could cheerfully kill me without a moment's regret," Max said astutely. "He's been eyeing his butter knife the entire time we've been out here. I'm certain he's imagined sticking into various parts of my anatomy."

"I'd better get in there," Trixie mumbled under her breath, cursing the fact that she was in this tenuous position.

Max looked at her and chuckled, glad that he didn't have to face the group inside. That was all Belden. "Maybe next time you'll answer your texts," he joked playfully and punched her gently on the arm.

"Shut up," she grumbled disconsolately before mustering up a smile. "Tell Jocelyn I said 'congratulations' and that I'm very happy for the two of you."

"Will do," he assured her, his blue eyes lighting up at the thought of the baby. "We're pretty happy and excited ourselves. I have a feeling we're about to start out on the craziest adventure of them all," he declared with a wink.

"You might be." She thought of the two secret agents becoming parents. This time her smile was genuine. "It's going to be fun to watch you two become parents."

"We'll do our best." The first few times when he had heard the words 'baby', 'parent', and 'expecting', he had broken out into a cold sweat. It didn't happen any longer. He was past the state of shock and fast entering the realm of excitement and anticipation. "Don't worry about work. I'll catch you up to date on all the important stuff once you get back. Enjoy the wedding and your family. See you later, Belden."

"Have a safe flight, Donovan," she responded and waved farewell. She swore she heard him whistling as he walked away. Before she turned to the diner, she pasted what she hoped was a semblance of a normal, carefree smile on her face. Convincing the others that her impromptu meeting with Max wasn't a big deal was going to be difficult. Judging from the descriptions Max had given her, they were already suspicious and eager for an explanation. They would probably jump her before she even sat down. Thinking that she would much rather face a group of talented snipers or take on a drug cartel by herself, she gathered her courage around her and, taking a deep, fortifying breath, opened up the door. She had absolutely no appetite whatsoever.

I want to thank my wonderful editors…Pam, bundysbaby, and my sister. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!


	16. Chapter 16

**Separate Lives **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Sixteen

_In the diner, about twenty minutes earlier…_

Dan dropped into a chair, glad that the shopping portion of the day was over. Brian may only have had one short stop at a little shop but that was enough for him. Dan wasn't much of a shopper to begin with. To top it off, he was hungry. The delicious smells wafting his way from the kitchen only made him hungrier. "Wow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his stomach which let out a little growl of appreciation. "Kudos to Honey for suggesting this place. It smells great!"

Feeling in a remarkably good mood, Jim turned to Brian and chuckled. Hooking a thumb towards Dan, he joked playfully, "We knew it would happen someday. Dan is finally turning into Mart."

Brian let out a loud, disappointed sigh. "That's too bad, Jim. I always hoped it would be the other way around. You know, Dan rubbing off on my brother instead." His loud bark of laughter mixed with Jim's.

"You two are so funny," Dan grumbled under his breath, scowling at the idiots he considered friends. He sent a disarming grin towards the waitress who dropped off their menus and held up a hand to ask for two more. "Thank you," he murmured politely.

Brian's chuckles slowly stopped when he realized how hungry he was. Momentarily interested in something other than teasing Dan, he scanned the contents of the menu. Once the grilled pork chops jumped out at him, he closed it with a snap, decision made. A close look at Jim and Dan showed him that they were still searching for their ideal lunch choice. Cutting into their concentration without a moment's regret, he leaned across the table and declared, "We have a few minutes before the girls get here. I think now is a good time."

"A good time for what?" Dan asked absently, torn between the idea of a juicy hamburger with all the toppings or a generous meatball sub.

"You owe us an explanation, Dan," Brian said, more forcefully than his usual calm tone of voice. A light grin tipped his lips when Dan brought up curious and astonished eyes to meet his. "Isn't that right, Jim?"

Jim closed his menu with a decided snap, choosing to go with the old stand-by. Questioning Dan was much more interesting than searching over the contents of a menu. "It would be nice to hear the reason straight from the horse's mouth." He turned all attention towards their dark-haired friend, who was starting to flush under their scrutiny.

Dan cursed the flush despite the fact that he couldn't do anything about it and resisted the urge to tug at his collar, which suddenly felt two sizes too small. He didn't need a flashing neon sign to realize what they wanted to question him about. Spreading out his hands before him, he shook his head and tried to appease them. "Guys, guys, there's nothing for you to wonder about. Really. There isn't."

"He's protesting a little too much, isn't he?" Brian addressed Jim, ignoring Dan's attempt to brush them off.

"I would say so." Jim tapped a long finger on the glossy finish of the smooth wood surface. Reclining back in his chair, he shared, "Trixie already told me her version but I'd like to know what Dan has to say about it."

"You've already talked to Trixie about it?" The nerves stopped. Dark eyes stared intently at Jim. "When did you do that?" he wondered incredulously.

"You're not turning the spotlight away from you," Jim chastised him with a little laugh, refusing to answer the question or offer Trixie's explanation. He wanted to see what Dan came up with. "Right now, you've got the floor. Me and the good doctor over here would like to know why you dragged Trixie off last night."

"I didn't drag her off," Dan grouched in his defense, his scowl turning more into a glower.

"No one can say that you dragged Trixie off, not literally, but what you did was enough to make Di concerned," Brian inserted. "She caught on to some sort of an odd response from you. When she brought it up after you left, we pondered it for awhile. Unfortunately, we couldn't come up with any ideas and let the subject drop. Jim and I thought it would be a good idea to question you about it at some point today, when we had a chance to be alone."

Dan fought the urge to do something adolescent, like roll his eyes, stick out his tongue, and stomp his foot on the floor in frustration. It didn't come as a surprise but, after no one had broached the subject the entire ride in, he had lulled himself into a false sense of security. Obviously, a foolish move on his part. To top it off, Trixie had already told Jim something. He frowned towards the doorway, hoping to see the buoyant blonde and her pretty sidekick come through the door but luck wasn't with him. He was stuck with the two grinning fools sitting next at the table with him. Giving up, he arched an eyebrow and growled, "Hit me."

"I'll reserve judgment on that until later," Brian quipped, having no intentions of getting violent with his friend. Whatever had happened hadn't dampened Trixie or Dan's spirits. He had watched their interactions closely. They had both been friendly and normal around each other with nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever had happened the evening before had been settled. "All I want to know is the reason why you needed to have a private discussion with Trixie last night."

"Listen, Brian," Dan began, running a hand through his dark hair and wished that he had handled the situation with Trixie a little smoother. "All I wanted to do was talk to her about her tattoo. That's it. I had a few questions I wanted to ask about the whole procedure. I wanted to make sure that she had it done in a safe, reputable place. I didn't want to ask her in front of everyone else because I figured Mart would jump in and tease the hell out of her about it. I knew I'd get better results with her alone."

"According to Trixie, Dan is not a big fan of tattoos," Jim inserted, failing to keep the humor out of his voice, and causing Brian's face to contort with astonishment.

"What?" he barked out, staring at Dan as if he had never seen him before. He didn't find anything particularly wrong with body art, as long as it was done in the best possible environment. That didn't mean he wanted to go out and get one himself but…Brian shook his head, floored by what Jim had said.

Dan hated the looks the two were giving him. Aware that he was going to lose a notch or two of respectability with them, he grumbled lowly and lied with quite a bit of qualm, "She's right. I don't like them. I don't want to go into it. All you need to know is that it has something to do with that time in my life I spent before moving to Sleepyside."

"Fair enough. I won't push it any further." Brian gave a small shake to his head. "Everything seems to be fine between you and Trixie now. She wasn't furious with you?" he asked in tone of disbelief. He couldn't imagine Trixie not being angry at having her decisions questioned or being forced to explain herself. She never liked having her freedom curtailed.

"A little. Our girl Trix doesn't like to be lectured. Both of you know that from years of past experience." Seeing a way out, Dan jumped aboard the newest line of question gratefully. If Mart had been there, he wouldn't have been able to get away with the flimsy amount of information he was offering them. Jim and Brian were a little more lenient. The only reason either one of them would demand more would be if Trixie was still upset over the entire incident. Since she wasn't, he figured he was close to being home free.

"Ain't that the truth," Brian murmured lowly.

Jim's lips curled up, thinking it odd that Dan was also bringing up the lectures from years past, in the same vein Trixie had recently joked about it. There had been many, many times during her school years that he had felt the need to lecture her, more because he was afraid for her safety than anything else. Chuckling himself, Jim made a joke, "I'll bet Trixie was shocked to hear the lecture about tattoos coming from you instead of Brian or me."

A dark eye winked back at him. "She handled it well, all things considered. Once she stopped being angry it was very easy to talk things out."

"That's the way it usually went," Brian remembered and shook his head. It was refreshing to know that Trixie hadn't changed overly much in the years she had spent away from them. Taking a healthy sip of his water that the waitress discreetly placed at his side, he reached into his pocket to feel the small box he had recently purchased.

Glad that his minor interrogation was over and that it hadn't been terrible after all, Dan leaned forward and pointed at Brian. "We didn't have a chance to see what you got in the store before. There were too many customers. Come on, Brian. The girls aren't here yet. Let's get a good look at it now." He wasn't overly interested in looking at a piece of jewelry but he was more than willing to make the sacrifice if it helped take the focus completely off of him.

Brian didn't need any further encouragement. Keeping an eye on the door to make certain a lovely fiancée didn't walk through it and ruin his surprise for her, he slipped the velvet box out and popped it open. A thin platinum band glinted back at them, done in the same setting to match her engagement ring. A row of lovely princess cut diamonds sat in the wedding ring. Simple, delicate and elegant, exactly the type of style Honey preferred. Their initials and their wedding date were engraved on the band inside of the ring. Pleased to share it with his friends, he carefully extracted the ring and passed it over the table.

Dan accepted it first. He made a big show out of inspecting it, grinned at the engraving and, because Brian hadn't made a huge deal about his trip with Trixie yesterday, returned the favor and didn't make any annoying remarks about it. "Nice taste, Dr. Belden," he said and handed it over to Jim.

"Honey's going to love it," Jim shared as he studied the graceful piece of jewelry. He wasn't much of a jewelry man himself but he had enough sense to know that it was a perfect match for Honey's engagement ring, in the exact same way that Brian was a perfect match for his sister. "This is exactly what she would have her picked out for herself."

"I hope she loves it. It was her idea for us to choose the other's wedding ring," Brian said after accepting the ring and putting it back into its box. After laying the box on the table, he added, "The only stipulation Honey made was that the rings had to be made out of platinum. Other than that, she said she was going to be fine with any choice I made for her. We're not going to see them until the ceremony on Saturday."

"She really will love it, Brian. You picked out a keeper." Jim sipped from his soda and smiled.

"Don't I know it." Brian wasn't referring to the ring. He handed over the box to his best man. "Since you're my best man, I'm going to put you in charge of the ring, Jim. I'd rather have it go straight to the Manor House and stay there. Less chance of it getting lost then especially since my house is a little out of control right now."

"No problem." Jim quickly slipped the box into a pocket and patted it for good measure. "I'll take good care of it. I promise."

"What's wrong with your house? It looked pretty neat to me when we were there yesterday." Dan raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"You didn't make it upstairs," Brian explained, giving an exaggerated shudder. "We're in the process of finding homes for all of Honey's things. I didn't have any clue before Jim and her father brought over her boxes the other night that Honey was such a pack rat. It's going to take a long time to get her things put away and the house back in order. We started a little last night but gave up after a few minutes. It's going to be a daunting process." And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"He's right," Jim agreed without hesitating. "It took the girls almost an entire day to pack her up. Then it took my dad and me a few trips to get her unloaded at the new house. Her boxes take up a full room there."

Dan squeezed his eyes shut to block out the image. He firmly believed in downsizing. The only thing he was crazy about possessing were electronics. He had a plasma television set in his apartment in the city that was to die for. "Can you believe it, Jim?" he slouched down in his chair, gave Jim a kick in the shin from under the table, and declared mournfully, "First Mart, now Brian. What are the Bob-Whites coming to? Before you know it, you and I are going to be the only guys in our neck of the woods who aren't married."

"Don't forget Bobby, Larry and Terry, too," Brian joked playfully. "They're still single."

"They don't count," Dan shot back, hiding a grin. "They're still in college. And they're not Bob-Whites."

Jim chuckled. About to quip something back, a movement on the other side of the window stopped him. He blinked his eyes wondering if he was seeing correctly. Leaning forward, he looked again. Sure enough, there was his sister and Trixie, standing outside on the sidewalk. A stranger was with them. Well, at least a stranger to him, anyway. He obviously knew Trixie since Honey left the two of them alone together. They were close to the diner, so close that if there wasn't a thick pane of glass between them he would be able to hear every single word they said. Since he couldn't, he had to focus on body language and lip-reading.

Dan saw the small group gathered outside, too. A twinge of amusement at the predicament speared through him. He wasn't certain if he was more curious about the identity of the man with Trixie or amused that Jim was obviously jealous and not hiding it very well. Either way, he figured with a philosophical shrug, it was shaping up to be a much more interesting day than he had expected it to be. "Here comes Honey. You hid the box, right, Jim?" Dan inquired after Honey pushed her way through the front door. Stretching out his long limbs, he waited for Honey to arrive.

With her purse bouncing off her hip, Honey, and only Honey, walked her way over towards the waiting gentlemen, a small, apprehensive smile on her pretty face. It didn't escape her attention that only Brian and Dan greeted her or that Jim was seriously preoccupied with something out on the sidewalk. Her brother hadn't bothered to spare a glance in her direction. She knew what that something was. He had never been successful at hiding any of his stronger, jealous emotions. At the thought, the bubble of apprehension that had almost swallowed her whole popped. As much as she loved her brother, she realized that he deserved a small slap in the face. Maybe the sudden meeting between Trixie and her workmate would even lead to something happening between the two co-presidents. "Hello, fellows," she sang out merrily. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No. Only a few minutes." Ever the gentleman, Brian immediately stood up, pulled out the chair next to him, and motioned for her to take it. "How were your errands?" he inquired, using the manners his mother had drummed into him as a child not to start questioning her the second she sat down about Trixie's absence. "Did you get everything done that you needed to do?"

"All complete!" Honey answered, her hazel eyes twinkling with happiness. She held up her shopping bag and gently shook it. The items inside rolled around. "This was my last stop. I picked up the gifts for my girls today." Smiling, she chose not to add that Brian's wedding band was also safely residing within the same bag.

"It's good to see you, Honey. However, I can't help but notice that we are one female short." Although he knew exactly where Trixie was, Dan brought it up anyway, simply to get a reaction out of Jim. He was looking forward to it. "Where's Trix?"

Honey gracefully sank onto the proffered seat, looked with love and gratitude towards her fiancé, and placed her bag protectively on her lap. "She ran into a friend while she was waiting for me outside of the jewelry store. She's out on the sidewalk, talking to him, right now. It won't take long. She'll be in in a few minutes."

Jim hadn't taken his eyes off of the unfolding scene outside, not even to greet his only sister. He nearly growled when he saw Trixie give her friend a beaming smile she reserved for her loved ones, as well as a strong hug. There were a ton of questions, simply dying to be let loose, but there was simply no way he was going to voice them. They wouldn't let him live it down if he did. Besides, he thought, eyes slim green slits, one of the others were certain to ask about the identity of the person and what he wanted with Trixie. He fingered his butter knife and stared at the stranger. Hard.

Because he was curious, a trait he reluctantly shared with his sister but didn't always give into, Brian unintentionally helped out his best man. "Who is she with, Honey?"

Honey accepted a menu from the waitress and smiled her thanks. "Let's order, everyone. I'll order for Trixie," she murmured quietly, momentarily sidestepping Brian's question. After the waitress competently took down their orders and walked away, she turned to Brian. "That's Max Donovan from her agency. You've probably heard her talk about him over the years."

"From her agency? In San Diego?" Brian's mouth dropped open, wondering what the hell the private investigator was doing in New York, of all places. More importantly, he wanted to know what the man wanted with his sister. The urge to swear was there but he tempered his words, for Honey's sake. "What on earth is he doing out here?"

Dan's suspicions were confirmed. All thoughts of teasing Jim were brushed aside. Curious and worried, he eyed Trixie and her friend through the thick glass. Recognizing the name, he knew who Max was, as well as what agency he truly belonged to. His questions went a little deeper and had more substance than Brian's. He wanted to know what the man wanted from Trixie. Gripping the edge of the table, he prayed that the man didn't want to take her away from them for some kind of a super secret assignment. If he did, he was going to have a fight on his hands. None of them were going to let him do it.

"He had a few questions about a case they worked on recently for Trixie to answer," Honey replied easily and swirled her straw through the lemonade Brian had thoughtfully ordered for her. After a sip showed her that it wasn't nearly sweet enough, she added in another packet of sugar. "She told us a little about it the other day at lunch. You remember, right, Jim, Dan? It's the one where one of the other investigators died."

Brian's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't hear anything about that," he said under his breath, a bit perturbed.

"That's about all we know," Dan explained when Jim didn't offer any kind of a response. He had apparently shut them out and was more than content to offer death glares to Max through the streak-free glass. "As you know, Trixie isn't allowed to go into detail about any of her cases."

"Hmm." Brian thoughtfully rubbed his chin, letting all of the information sink in. He shook his head because it simply didn't add up. "I can't help but think it's suspicious that he had to come the entire way across the country to talk to her," he muttered and absently stabbed his straw into his drink. The ice cubes clinked against the thick red plastic of the cup.

"He tried to get in contact with her before today but Trixie didn't return any of his messages. She was afraid that he wanted her to report to work," Honey explained, trying not to grin at the way Jim couldn't stop looking out the window. He was giving the show outside the same amount of attention a die-hard fan would give game seven of the World Series. Resisting the urge to giggle, she doubted if he heard a word of what they were saying, so intent was he on the happenings outside.

Honey was wrong. Jim had all his faculties working perfectly, including his sense of hearing. He heard everything and couldn't help but agree with Brian, although he didn't voice it. He couldn't get past his suspicions about why the man had searched her out. As much as it irked him to admit it, he despised watching the two of them together. An obvious camaraderie existed between them which he hoped had never transferred into anything beyond friendship. When Trixie hugged the man again, Jim did let out a low snarl that he quickly disguised with a cough, in case any of the others at the table would call him on it.

Dan's eyes lit up. He stared at Jim and saw a myriad of conflicting emotions traipsing across the redhead's face. Jealousy was certainly the strongest one. He flicked a glance towards the sidewalk, noticed that Trixie was on her way in, and settled back in his seat.

Dreading the next coming minutes, knowing that every single one of them had watched her with Max, Trixie pushed her way past the door, moved out of the way of a departing customer, and straightened her slim shoulders. The next few minutes weren't going to be enjoyable. She only hoped that Dan wasn't in a teasing mood and would help her out instead of hinder her. She wouldn't put it past him to take the opportunity to poke a little fun at her expense. She headed over to them. Her smile was bright, almost overly so, and her eyes, if any one bothered to look at them, were more wary than warm. "Hey, everyone! Have we ordered yet?" She sat down in a show of deceptive unconcern at the lone chair left between Brian and Dan. Needing something to do, she took a sip out of the iced tea someone had thoughtfully ordered for her and did her best not to meet anyone's eyes, especially the emerald pair directly across from her.

"I ordered a sandwich for you," Honey said into the pregnant silence, dying to ask for information but unable to come up with the best way to introduce it.

Dan wasn't so shy. He scooted his chair around so he could look right at her. "What's going on, Trixie?"

"Oh, you want to know what Max wanted," she replied easily, knowing that she needed to set the right tone. Calm, relaxed, and serene was the best way to handle it. Waving an airy, unconcerned hand, she offered, "He needed to ask me about our last case." The waitress chose that moment to bring their meals to the table. She accepted her plate from the waitress and took a bite of her club sandwich. It was huge, a triple-decker, and she had absolutely no appetite for it at all. "Good choice, Honey. This is delicious," she lied with a smile.

"Hey, hey, no avoiding the question," Honey rebuked, ignoring her own salad. "Why did he want to talk to you?"

Trixie moved a shoulder, sharing as much as she could with them. "He tried to get in touch with me a few times since I was home but I kind of ignored his attempts," she admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Honey told us. You must have been afraid that you'd get called into work," Brian surmised correctly. "Thanks for not wanting to miss our wedding."

"That's it exactly." Trixie shared a glance with Honey. "It seems I promised someone I wouldn't let that happen so I didn't try too hard to get in touch with Max after he texted me a few times at the beginning of the week and finally resorted to calling me. In fact, I more or less ignored most of his attempts."

"Thank you," Honey murmured, appreciative that her best friend and maid of honor had more than understood her fear that she would be called away.

"No problem." Trixie hesitated, took another grateful sip of her tea, and lied again for the good of the cause, "I can't tell you what he needed to know about the case but no one needs to worry. It's all taken care of." She smiled reassuringly at the table. Jim was the only one who didn't return it.

Dan ran his tongue over his teeth. With his inside track he highly doubted that it was as simple and uncomplicated as Trixie was making it out to be. "That's refreshing," he said.

"How did he find you?" Brian wondered aloud, speaking another question that all of them had. "I mean, I seriously doubt that he happened to be walking along the streets of White Plains and just happened to bump into you."

"GPS," she chirped brightly, holding up her cell phone, telling them only part of the truth. "We're all equipped with it. Any of us can find anyone's location or, more accurately, anyone's cell phone location, any time we want to. He must have checked my location, noticed that we were pretty close to each other, and decided to stop over and find me." She lifted her shoulders as if to say that it wasn't a big deal.

"GPS," Dan repeated, arching a lone dark eyebrow. The look she aimed his way was innocent in the extreme but he would lay money down that her agency had something far superior to the mundane and easily accessible GPS system that the rest of the world had access to. Her slight nod confirmed his thoughts.

Honey picked up a breadstick and delicately tore off a piece before popping it into her mouth. For the first time since Trixie had joined them, she focused on Jim. He had been unnaturally quiet since she had entered the diner. In fact, he hadn't spoken a word that she could remember in the entire time she had been there. It was blatantly obvious that he was trying not to act too interested in Trixie's answers but he was failing. Miserably. Honey noticed how his gaze continued to flicker over towards her. And he was dying to know the answer to one very specific question but Honey knew he wouldn't ever ask it. In a show of sisterly support, as well as to satisfy her own curiosity, she helpfully assisted him. "Why did you hug him?"

Great, Trixie thought with an inward sigh while her cheeks tinted a soft pink. They would have had to have seen that. "He told me some good news," she said, putting down her sandwich and smiling at the others. Since it wasn't classified and had absolutely nothing to do with the agency or their work, she went on to explain, "It turns out that he and his girlfriend are expecting a baby."

Jim immediately straightened in his chair, relieved. The man out there had a girlfriend and a serious one at that if they were creating a family together. The two quick embraces he had witnessed had been platonic ones, congratulatory ones, with no other feelings behind it but those. Although he wouldn't have admitted to the jealousy that had held a vicious stranglehold on him, he would own up to the relief. It was intense, instantaneous, and intoxicating, serving as a welcome barrier to the recent thoughts that had assaulted him within the last ten minutes. Blowing out a slow breath, he picked up his soda, grateful that he hadn't spoken any of his thoughts or feelings aloud. No one would ever have let him forget it, especially since he had no claim over Trixie to begin with.

Honey didn't miss an ounce of his response and hid an amused grin behind a well-timed dab of a paper napkin. "Well. That's great news. Jocelyn, right?"

Hoping that she was out of the hot seat she nodded her curly head and settled more comfortably onto her seat. "Yes. He's flying back to California today. He didn't share many of the particulars with me. I'll have to call Jocelyn later and find out how she's feeling." And let her know that she was on board to help them out with the Chief. Jocelyn would be a huge loss to the agency but Trixie hoped that by stepping up to the plate it would help alleviate some of the concern that would most certainly be brought on by her friend's resignation.

With his new insight into her true career, Dan inherently understood that more had transpired out there besides news of an impending bundle of joy or questions about a case that could have been handled through any other means possible beside a direct visit. He gave her his patented amused look that she returned with an inscrutable one of her own. He could almost hear her groan. She recognized what he was going to do. Deciding to pick a little fun at her, he leaned back, cracked a few knuckles, and stated, "Your friend Max must be really excited about the new baby. He came all the way out here to share the news with you. That's dedication if you ask me."

Trixie could have cheerfully kicked him for that. Just when everyone's curiosity had been nearly abated he had to point out the obvious missing glare in her explanation, the one part she had hoped she wouldn't have to bring up. "He didn't stop by just to tell me about the baby. He also wanted to ask me something else," she amended swiftly, promising Dan with a frustrated glare retribution of an equal or greater value at the first opportunity.

"There's more?" Honey put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. Just like that, her nerves were back, ten-fold. Anytime Trixie had contact with someone from California, it wasn't a good thing for them. She huffed out a breath, frustrated with herself for thinking that all was well, and waited for what she was sure to be bad news.

Jim stared down at his hamburger and plate full of French fries, idly thought that it was odd to have such a delicious-looking meal staring back at him and not to feel an ounce of hunger for it. Since the only questions or comments he had would have made him come across as the biggest fool in the entire state of New York, he wisely kept his mouth shut, and settled for a frown instead.

"They haven't told our supervisor about her pregnancy yet," Trixie began, absently picking at a French fry and dipping it into a dwindling pile of ketchup. "He wanted to ask me if I'd be willing to help out a bit with the more active parts of Jocelyn's job since she's not going to be physically able to do many of them for the next nine months," she went on to explain, choosing her words carefully and sticking as close to the truth as possible.

"Well, that makes sense," Brian declared after mulling it over, although he still couldn't quite understand why the man had stopped by New York to have a face-to-face conversation with Trixie about it.

"If I'd only answered his texts or returned his phone call, he wouldn't have had to search me out," Trixie sighed in response, hoping to lighten the entire situation. It was obvious to her, blatantly so, that Max hadn't thought the matter the entire way through. If he had, he wouldn't have accosted her on a city street, in plain view of anyone, especially her inquisitive and observant friends. The news must have thrown him more for a loop than he was admitting to, she thought with a tiny grin. "They didn't want to face our supervisor without an immediate plan of action."

"So you are going to help them out," Honey restated quietly. "But not anytime soon, right?"

"Absolutely not," Trixie assured her, looking directly into the hazel eyes. "I absolutely, positively, one hundred and ten percent guarantee you that I am not going to miss out on your wedding." She had a strong feeling she may be called back to California sooner than she had anticipated, most likely right after the wedding, but she didn't share her thoughts. She had the next few days, at least, before she really had to consider where her new position would take there.

Dan thoughtfully chewed on his meatball sub, letting the new and scanty information sink in, and vowed to ask her more about it when the opportunity arose. "I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that we're all glad you're not being called in to work," he remarked, waving his hand to encompass everyone.

"Not anytime soon," Trixie agreed and gave a long, playful sigh. She reached across the table and covered Honey's hand with one of hers. "I'm here for the duration. You're not going to get rid of me."

"Thank goodness," Honey breathed out, turning her hand over to squeeze Trixie's. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Trixie smiled reassuringly at Honey and dropped her hand. Wanting to end the discussion, she looked pointedly at the guys. "What did you do today?"

Just like that, the subject was closed, with a finality and much to Trixie's inner relief. Brian fumbled for an answer, glanced at his friends for help because he didn't want to give away his errand with his fiancé sitting next to him, and ended up mumbling lowly, "Nothing much."

Since Jim seemed to have no inclination to talk at all, Dan immediately jumped in to assist. "We walked the streets while you and Honey were busy," he offered, which was partially true.

Jim patted the ring box that was deep within his pocket. He banded around his friend, speaking for the first time since Trixie had joined them, and threw the limelight onto his sister, away from Brian, "What about you, Honey? Did you get everything you needed?"

Trixie swung her head around, having succeeded in not looking at him directly during her explanation. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, she saw that he didn't suspect anything odd or different and hadn't looked any further into the explanation she had offered. He appeared normal. Better, he didn't look like he wanted to harm anyone with his butter knife anymore. A good thing, since Jocelyn was really going to need Max alive and well.

"We stopped by the bridal shop first to get my veil and the wraps. I dropped them off in the back of your car, Jim. Then we stopped at another store." Honey folded down the top of her shopping bag as if she thought one of them would attempt to reach into it to view its contents and find out what she had bought. "All of our chores are finished."

"Good for you. Do we need to stop anywhere else before we go back to Sleepyside?" Jim glanced around the full table, including everyone. He couldn't help it. He stared the longest and the hardest at Trixie. When he realized what he was doing, he hastily dropped his gaze and took a generous bite out of his burger.

"I'm all finished," Honey sang out cheerfully. She could hardly fathom the fact that there wasn't anything else she needed to complete for the wedding. Tomorrow it would be time to decorate but Miss Trask and her highly trained team of professionals were going to take care of it. Honey merely had to supervise and offer suggestions if they were needed. "Going home sounds wonderful."

With talk focusing on something besides her, Trixie's appetite returned, reminding her that she hadn't eaten a thing besides a hurried bowl of cereal that morning. Taking Jim's place as the quiet one in the group, she concentrated on eating and listened to the talk, only offering a murmured response here and there when it was necessary. After the waitress discreetly placed the check at the table, Jim, Dan, and Honey and Brian all squared off to win the right to pay for it. Since she had left the house with only her cell phone in her possession, Trixie stood up and left the four to duke it out the right to pay for their meal. "Excuse me," she said and headed towards the restroom to freshen up before the trip home.

When she came out of the restroom, Dan was reclining against the far wall, arms crossed, and waiting for her. She paused and frowned, expecting another interrogation that was sure to come her way. To ward it off, she forced her lips to curve when all she really wanted to do was snarl. "Who won?"

"You don't really care," he countered and smoothly reached out, halting her progress and holding her back from the others who were already leaving the diner.

A harried expression crossed her face. Hastily, she wiped it away and stared up at the ceiling. For the first time she noticed the multitude of lighted ceiling fans that dotted the ceiling, offering both light and a slow moving wave of air. Each fan seemed to be placed the same amount of space apart and afforded the large diner with a comfortable atmosphere. There was no need to ask but she did it anyway. "What do you want, Dan?"

Since she appeared to be willing to cooperate, he dropped his hand from her elbow. "You did a good job in there, fielding everyone's questions," he said, leading with a compliment first. "Derek Jeter couldn't have done better. None of them suspect anything. You even managed to curb Jim's resurgence of jealousy quickly and easily. He didn't spend the entire lunch looking like he wanted to severely wound someone."

Trixie's blue eyes widened. Jealous? Jim? If it wasn't such a touchy subject she would have questioned him about it. Aware that they didn't have a lot of time, she motioned with her head for them to start walking to the front of the diner before any of their friends wondered what happened to them and ignored the more tantalizing subject. They strolled slowly towards the main door. "But?" she questioned leadingly, nodding at their waitress as she passed by them on her way to the kitchen.

"There has to be more. Your Max wouldn't have come this far to see you." He stopped her before they reached the front counter by lightly placing two fingers on her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Jocelyn's retiring from the agency," she answered quietly and pinned what she hoped was a normal, carefree smile on her face when Honey glanced back through the door to see what was holding up the rest of their posse.

"And?" Well aware that they didn't have too much privacy, he encouraged her to go on as quickly as she could. He intentionally led her behind a large group of diners who were taking their sweet time in leaving the restaurant, using the bottle-neck the group created as a good excuse to explain their absence. He caught Brian's eyes, shrugged his shoulders, and stayed behind the group even though he and Trixie could have squeezed their way around them.

"And he wants me to take her place," she explained softly. Forestalling the next question, she leaned closer. "I said yes."

With the instincts that their jobs required agents to have, Dan understood that she was doing more than simply taking someone's place. He drew back, studied her face, and came to the quick conclusion that she had been promoted within their agency. "Congratulations, Trixie."

She gave a little laugh, finding it hard to fathom that she wasn't merely going to be a normal, active agent any longer. She hadn't had the ambition for something more but, now that the opportunity had afforded itself, she was going to do the very best that she could. "That's the real reason why Max wanted to talk to me. He and Jocelyn want to offer my decision to take over Jocelyn's responsibilities to our person in charge after they tell him about their situation. It will hopefully make things go smoother for everyone all around." Chief Ogilvie wasn't going to be pleased but he wouldn't have any choice but to accept their decision. As Jocelyn had informed her years ago, agents were allowed to leave whenever they wished to. The agency did not want burned out, inferior or disgruntled agents. Only the best, the very best, would do for them.

He couldn't imagine that there were many pregnant CDA agents. Trixie's friend was probably the first one ever. From what he understood about the agency, there weren't many agents in successful relationships, either. It was the nature of the beast. Lone wolves, male or female, without ties, thrived the best in her line of work. "I think I like your Max. He obviously possesses a lot of good sense to have you take over." He motioned for her to move when the large group finally stopped chatting and walked through the front door.

"Thanks again." She opened the door and whispered under her breath, "But no more talking about it, okay? We've got the entire ride home with the others and I think I've reached my quota of the day for telling half-lies and full-out ones already. I don't want to lie anymore if it's all the same to you."

"You really hate the need for that, don't you?" Dan didn't expect an answer. He already knew it. He ushered her to go first and joined the others waiting for them. "Thanks for waiting for us. We got stuck behind the slowest moving group of tourists ever to grace this city." He offered the excuse with a roll of his eyes.

"No problem. We saw what happened. Come on. Jim's car is this way," Brian replied and, grabbing Honey's hand, began leading the small group down the sidewalk, towards the parking lot. Doing his trademark whistle, Dan loped his way right behind them, his long strides eating up the sidewalk and leaving Trixie and Jim a few feet back from the others without a second glance.

Trixie crinkled her nose at Dan's rapidly departing back, understanding his motive perfectly. The words he had shared with her earlier came back to her. Jealous Jim. Then there was Max's observation, something about Jim and what he really wanted to do with his butter knife. The edges of her mouth curved up with delight at the thought. Maybe he really had been jealous. Why that should suddenly thrill her she didn't want to say but she walked besides him at a sedate pace, perfectly content to do so, and didn't hurry to catch up with the others.

"We should get back to Sleepyside in plenty of time," Jim noted during the short walk to the car. His emotions had run the gamut during the day. From comfort and ease to that heart-defying moment in the stable when they had almost embraced; from an insane amount of jealousy to the most amazing amount of relief he had ever experienced. It went beyond the relief he had felt after learning that Trixie's crush on Ben Riker had all been a façade during his first Thanksgiving in Sleepyside. He caught himself mere seconds before he copied Dan and started whistling and told himself sternly to simply enjoy the moment and to stop analyzing every little thing before he drove himself insane.

"I know." Thinking about the freedom of riding Susie made her smile. She tossed him a sideways glance. "I can't wait. I've missed riding so much. It's going to be such a treat."

Jim nodded his head, thinking the exact same thing. Although he was smart enough to know that it wasn't merely horseback riding that was going to be a treat for him. Spending a little time alone with Trixie, while they were apparently on the best speaking terms they had experienced in years, was the real treat for him. "I think so, too," he said before they reached the rest of their group. Ignoring the amused grins coming their way, he quickly climbed into the driver's seat and concentrated on starting the car. He took a single moment to watch Trixie in the rearview mirror before backing up. He could hardly wait until they made it back to Sleepyside. As he heard the voices of the others in the car, he only hoped that none of them invited themselves along for the ride.

I need to thank three absolutely fabulous editors who gave up a lot of their free time to read over my writing…thank you to bundysbaby, Pam and the best sister ever!


	17. Chapter 17

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Seventeen

The car ride home was uneventful. Trixie spent a good portion of it staring out her window, preoccupied by her thoughts. Brian and Honey chatted and giggled their way through it while Dan channeled Mart and attempted his best to annoy the hell out of all of them, intentionally choosing the most irritating songs to a never-ending chorus of boos and hisses until Jim finally had enough and slapped his hand away. Dan only stopped when Jim threatened him with serious bodily harm if he ever touched his stereo system again. Their antics made her laugh and brought her to the conclusion that she wasn't going to perseverate on her recent conversation with Max. She was more than willing to put it on the backburner, until after she returned to California. Grinning, feeling much freer and happier with her decision, she leaned forward and joined in the entertaining conversation that lasted through the freeway and the connecting roads until they were safely back on home territory.

After Jim parked his car in its normal spot, Trixie was the last to get out and lingered behind the others on the blacktop. They were home. A glance at the sky told her that they were more than early enough for the promised ride. She resolutely kept her mouth shut about the ride with Jim, intentionally not telling anyone what her plans were. If she did, she understood that every single one of them would insist on coming along for the ride, too, and not entirely for the enjoyment of taking the horses out. Oh no. They would want another view of Jim and Trixie hanging out together.

Jim's thoughts mirrored hers perfectly. He kept the plans to himself like a cool and composed player at a high stakes poker game and didn't tell Honey, Brian or Dan. He stood off to the side, wondering how he could get the others away from the stables without arising anyone's suspicions, and put his hands into his pockets. Immediate salvation. His fingers brushed against the small box Brian had put him in charge of. Knowing it wouldn't be a good idea to bring the item with him on the ride and understanding that he had the answer he needed to give the others time to depart without sharing their riding plans with them, he hastily excused himself from the group. Staring meaningfully at Trixie, he mumbled, "There's something I've got to check on. I'll be back out in a few minutes." If his luck held out there was a better than good chance that the others would be gone before he returned.

After Jim disappeared into the house, Dan inclined his head towards the stables. "I haven't seen much of my uncle this vacation. He probably thinks I forgot about him. I think I'm going to go see what he's up to. Maybe I can bum some dessert off of him. Your cook is always making him something delicious to eat, Honey. Thanks for a great trip." He offered them a two-fingered salute and sauntered away from the group with his easy gait.

That only left Honey, Brian and Trixie. Smiling apologetically to Trixie, Honey put a hand through Brian's arm, started tugging him towards the house, and volunteered Brian for another meeting about the wedding, this time with the mothers and Miss Trask. "Brian and I are going to see how far our mothers and Miss Trask have come with the plans while we've been gone. You can come in, too, if you want, Trix."

"Yes. Come," Brian invited, his eyes pleading with her to assist him. Another go-round with the wedding preparations was not high on his list of things to do.

"Thanks, Honey, but I'll pass. I think I'm going to go visit the horses again." She smothered a low chuckle after Brian tossed another helpless look her way, one that she ignored and rocked back on her heels. "Run along, you two, and have fun. Tell Moms, Mrs. Wheeler and Miss Trask that I said 'hi'!"

Left alone, Trixie wandered her way towards the stables. She peered in through the front door, biting her bottom lip, and let out a sigh when she saw that Dan hadn't stuck around. He had to have made it up to his uncle's apartment. She understood Regan well enough to know that he wasn't going to tell Dan about their ride in the next few minutes, either. He wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good scheme on his part. So, unless someone else interrupted them, it was really going to be her and Jim. Her heart began to race with each passing second. She patted each horse absently until she made it back to Susie's stall and clapped her hands in delight. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave her horse a gentle kiss on the neck and opened her stall. A light flared up brightly in Susie's soft eyes. She was as excited about the ride as Trixie was. Humming lightly, if slightly off-key, she started preparing the horse for the upcoming ride.

Jim came through the open doorway, a little out of breath from his mad dash back to the stables. Honey and Brian…well, more Brian than Honey…had assaulted him in the hallway and had invited him to come in to the formal living room to meet with their mothers and have dessert. He had barely taken the time to choke out a loud and definite negative before flying out of the house, more than eager to take Jupiter out, with Trixie at his side. And there she was, smoothing a gentle hand over Susie, who was nearly ready for her. Because it wouldn't do to let Trixie know he had attempted to break world speed records on his return to the stables, he slowed his pace and ordered his nerves to settle."You work fast," he commented, satisfied that his voice didn't wobble, and came into the large area lit by the afternoon sun.

Trixie glanced over her shoulder at him. He was there. They were alone. Not only were they alone but they were about to embark on something they hadn't done alone together in years. The whole week was becoming a study in new firsts for them. First a truce, followed by actual, in-depth and meaningful conversations, and now some serious alone time. She fleetingly wondered what else would happen between the two of them before the week was out. "Susie is as excited about this as I am," she answered easily, leading with a safe and neutral topic.

"So's Jupe." Jim strode towards the excited horse and worked as quickly and competently as Trixie had to get his horse ready. They finished their jobs in silence, both holding their breaths that no one would suddenly show up and hone in on their action at the last moment. When they were saddled and on their way to one of the many available riding paths, they could hardly believe their good fortune to have stolen the time away from the others. But now the nervousness really set in. What, exactly, were they supposed to say to each other? More importantly, how were they supposed to act? Neither of them knew the answer to it and felt more like young adolescents instead of the adults that they were.

"Which way do you want to go?" Jim offered from his spot in the lead position. His glance was only supposed to find out her answer but, instead, he found himself captivated by the look of utter enjoyment and exhilaration on her face. Most of the women he knew worked hard to achieve even a semblance of that look, spending all sorts of money on cosmetics, clothing, and various other ways of improving their attractiveness. She didn't have an ounce of make-up on or a whiff of perfume. Her sweatshirt was faded and he was certain that there was a fray or two to her jeans. There almost always was. No artifice at all. All completely natural and all totally breathtaking. He cleared his throat when he realized that he was staring and focused on an uninteresting spot of the forest directly over her shoulder.

"Let's try the bluffs." With cheeks flushed from the enthusiasm for the ride, Trixie flashed a brilliant smile his way. "I haven't been there in a while."

Quite literally, the smile stole what little breath he had left and made thinking, let alone speaking, absolutely impossible for the moment. "The bluffs…right," he stammered out when she pulled up to him and Jupiter. "Good choice. I can't remember the last time I was there. Let's go."

He led the way. No words were said or needed to be said. They simply enjoyed the feel of the horses underneath, the smooth rhythm the ride created, as well as the beautiful signs of spring around them. Strands of wild green grass grew but didn't tempt the horses. Not yet. They were too excited to be out and with their favorite people. Colorful wild flowers Trixie could not name danced in the breeze and long gray shadows stretched out from the fresh leaves above, granting them shade from the sunlight filtering through. When they broke through the last line of forest before reaching the bluffs, Trixie expertly pulled Susie to a stop and simply appreciated the view that was spread out for their enjoyment.

The sight of the Hudson River always moved her, always impressed her. Beautiful and magnificent, with its ever-swirling, moving waters that were forever completing the most interesting and intricate of dances. Blue eyes sparkling with enjoyment, she hurriedly dismounted. Susie immediately starting grazing on the fresh grass. "I always forget what it looks like," she admitted under her breath, more to herself than to Jim, and started walking towards the edge of the cliff. "It's so beautiful."

He appreciated the sight of her much more than the brilliant scene nature had crafted for them. Wearing a thin deep red sweatshirt and her favored blue jeans, topped with the mop of blonde curls that the wind was working hard to make an absolute mess out of, he thought she was the one who was beautiful. Because he needed to take a large figurative step back, and badly, he cleared his throat and lagged behind her, intentionally moving slowly and deliberately and keeping some distance between them. He wasn't ready to take that plunge. Desperately in need of some levity, he asked, deadpanned, "Do you see any sharks?"

His question startled a beguiling laugh out of her. "Not today," she answered, tossing him a saucy grin over her shoulder that threw him even further off balance. "But give me some time. I'm sure I can come up with one or two."

"I'm sure you could." He didn't trust himself to stand next to her. Not today. And, he realized with chagrin, not anymore. He slipped a hip on a large rock, content to be silent. She didn't appear to need to talk then, either. Both stared out over the water below. Before he was aware of his intentions, Jim cleared his throat and asked, "What does taking over for this Jocelyn person mean?" He couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth. It was coming much easier to discuss her life with her, of all people. If that didn't shock the absolute hell out of him, he didn't know what else would.

The slight widening of her eyes gave away her surprise. He couldn't see it, not with her back to him and her gaze on the river. Out of all the people she had expected to ask more about her encounter with Max, he would have been at the tail end of her list. Dead last, in fact. They both excelled at making polite conversation with each other, not inquiring about important, life-changing events. More proof that they were more than shifting away from their cursory, not-quite-friendly but not-exactly-antagonistic relationship of the past seven years, she realized with a start. Where would they end up? That question interested her far more than the one he had asked her.

When she didn't answer, he frowned, certain that she was preparing herself to give him the brush off. "Forget it," he mumbled, flushing with embarrassment and what he perceived as a rejection. "It's not important."

His words jump-started her mind. Furious at herself for getting lost in her thoughts, exactly the way she done through most of her growing up years, Trixie whirled around and exclaimed earnestly, "No, Jim! I'm sorry. You know how fickle my mind can be. I got side-tracked by a wayward thought." Going with instinct, not thinking it through, she laid a small hand on his forearm.

Jim stared at the hand resting on the soft gray of his sweatshirt. The heat the touch radiated could have run a small generator. Because he used to know exactly how her mind worked and how swiftly she could race from thought to thought, he lifted his head and met her face. There was an apologetic look to her eyes. It couldn't be missed. A curl danced in front of her face. He wanted, quite badly, to brush it back, a move he had done countless time in the past, but he stayed still. "What was the thought?"

"It's already forgotten," she answered, shaking her head and chuckling at herself. There was no way she was telling him what she had been thinking. "Just goes to show you how fickle my mind still is." Lifting her hand from him, she tapped an unpainted finger to her chin and brought up his question, which had, remarkably enough, penetrated through the murkiness of her mind. She simply hadn't had the presence of mind to react to it. "However, my memory is pretty good in spite of my flaw. You wanted to know about my new job offer."

"That's right." Because he could feel her touch on his arm, he concentrated on the breathtaking scenery below, hoping it would help take his mind off of her and how close she was to him. It didn't, he realized with a fatalistic sigh.

"It's not that big of a deal. Really. I'll have more of a leadership role on our assignments, help lead the briefings and the assignments. Nothing that big or too demanding." She shrugged off the new responsibilities, extremely aware of how big the change would be for her. She hoped she was prepared. Squinting her eyes against the golden glow of the sun, she realized that she had to be ready for it. Max and Jocelyn wouldn't have suggested it to her if they weren't completely behind her.

"It sounds more important than you're letting on." Reading between the lines, he understood that she was downplaying the offer and incorrectly guessed it was because she was being modest. Jim bent down and picked up a rock. He tossed it from hand to hand for a moment before humming it over the edge. They were too far away to hear it hit the water but he stood up to watch the ripple it made. "Will your friend resume her normal role after the baby is born?"

"I highly doubt it." Trixie hid a smile, picturing Jocelyn carrying her baby with a Baby Bjorn strapped to her chest while chasing down a hardened and dangerous criminal. Not likely. Max wouldn't be sticking around the agency that much longer, either. The agency in San Diego was going to be a completely different place, practically overnight, she realized with a blinding flash of insight, and fleetingly wondered where the changes would lead her. "Somehow babies and my agency don't mix all that well."

Jim chuckled, imagining that to be perfectly true. "It would be hard to go after the bad guys with a baby in tow, wouldn't it?"

Trixie nodded her agreement. "I couldn't believe it when Max told me that they were expecting. It's the second time this week someone has dropped that little bomb on me." She shook her head, unaware of what she had let slip and glanced back at the horses. They were where they had left them, happily chomping on the grass.

He automatically reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her back around so that they were fact-to-face. "What?" exploded out of him.

Trixie's eyes widened into huge sapphire orbs of shock. "Damn," shot out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, swore more viciously at herself, and grumbled, "Now that you do need to forget about, Jim. I promised I wouldn't say anything."

"Too late now," Jim countered smoothly, unaware that he hadn't let her go and had even pulled her closer to him. "You've already let the cat out of the bag. Who's pregnant?" The only people he could come up with were Di or…Honey! Was his sister going to be a mommy? "Let it out. Which of our resident couples is it? Honey and Brian or Di and Mart?"

"Di is going to kill me," she grouched, staring down at the ground, and kicked out at a stone. Of course, the stone proved to be a stubborn one and didn't move from its spot. It stayed right where it was, almost as if it was mocking her with its very presence for breaking her promise to Di.

"Di and Mart, then!" A happy chuckle rolled out of his mouth. Unaware that he was still holding on, he tugged her even closer towards the shelter of his body and stared out over the deceptively serene-looking river. "How about that. They're going to have a baby; the Bob-Whites' first."

Her head shook. She was near enough to him that her curls bounced against his arm and his chest. "You can't tell anyone, Jim," she warned him. "I promised Di and Mart that I wouldn't say a word to anyone about it. They don't want anyone to know until after the wedding. They don't want to take any of the attention away from Honey and Brian. You can't say anything. Please," she pleaded, words tripping over each other in their hurry to get out of her mouth.

Jim couldn't picture sweet Diana Lynch Belden or incorrigible Mart Belden as parents-to-be. He looked back into the past, wondered where the time had gone, and unconsciously let go of her arm. His hand didn't fall to his side. Going on instinct, not on thought, it ended up resting lightly against her waist. His fingers flexed while his thumb drew small circles on her sweatshirt. Amazingly, he didn't realize that he was touching her or that she was standing willingly next to him. Inferring correctly, he mumbled, "They wouldn't want to spoil the moment for Honey and Brian."

Trixie couldn't believe it. She was close enough to smell his cologne. It was lightly applied, something he probably did more out of habit instead of as a way to tantalize a woman's senses. She breathed it in, let the comforting scent invade her mind. It conjured up all sorts of memories that she was beginning to think were better left not buried. A sudden thought hit her. Maybe it was time to start to resurrect them. She swallowed a gasp against it and lifted her head up. All she saw was the wall of his chest. She was the first to realize how close they were, with only the barest amount of space between their but not touching. The only source of touch came from his hand at her waist. While she should have moved, she didn't. She stayed right where she was. "That's it, exactly," she answered, her voice raspy and tinged with awe. "Di told me the other day during our fitting but you can't tell anyone, Jim. You've got to keep it to yourself."

"I won't say a word." He grinned boyishly down at her, still completely unaware that they shouldn't be as close as they were to each other. "Things are definitely changing in our Bob-White world, aren't they?"

Dumbly, she nodded, unable to force any words out past the sudden knot in her throat. Trixie saw to the second the moment he realized how close they were. A dark red flush started across his handsome face. The fingers lying on her side twitched and his eyes…they started to darken past the state of emerald. She was caught in them and carefully straightened. But she did not move. His words penetrated the haze affecting her brain. Things were changing. If the fact that the two of them were alone, out on the bluffs, freely, and sharing an intense and private conversation didn't prove how much their part of the Bob-White world was changing, she didn't know what else would.

The wind carried a whinny back from Jupiter. It was all that was needed to break the spell. Jim turned to the horses and saw that nothing was amiss. His hand fell from her body and he felt more than saw her move back, most likely to gain some much-needed distance. He couldn't fault her for it, not when he needed it, too. However, he couldn't decide if Jupiter's untimely interruption was a blessing or a curse. All he knew was that it didn't do a blessed thing for his heart rate. Hoping to put the conversation back on a level he could handle without turning into some kind of a drooling, awe-struck, hormonal teenager, he recapped the situation, "Honey and Brian are getting married, Di and Mart are having a baby, and you're getting a promotion at work."

"You can't forget about you. You're getting ready to build a house. I also seem to remember hearing something about an interesting proposition to you from your father." Trixie ran a hand over her hair, more to move than anything else. She forced her feet to stand still and beat down the disappointment that she wasn't standing nearer to him anymore. She swore inwardly, still feeling the warmth of his body, which was stupid since they hadn't actually touched at any point other than the light touch at her waist. "Have you considered his offer?"

Jim shrugged one shoulder. There were only two possible answers: yes or no. It should have been simple but it wasn't. No answer he had ever come up with had stuck for him. There were many times when he thought he'd be able to give his father a positive answer, that he would be more than willing to take over the business when the time was right. Unfortunately, there were just as many times when he thought it would be a negative one. "Taking over my father's company would be a big step," he stated, going for neutral.

"Could you see yourself doing it?" Interested blue eyes peeped up at him.

"I honestly don't know." The truth of the words were out of his mouth before it even registered that he was saying them. But then this was Trixie, who he had always been able to share his ideas with, before…well, before their untimely and ugly break that had built a huge and practically impenetrable wall between them. It seemed that a crack had formed, was bringing them closer to where they had been before. That realization, as well as his inability to give his father a firm answer, attributed to the confusion parading across his face.

She was curious about his reaction, extremely so. He didn't wear confusion well at all. Hoping to help him alleviate it, she asked a direct question, "Are you happy working for your father?"

"I'm content there." The word_ happy_ couldn't be used to describe his feelings for his job. He enjoyed the challenges although there were many times when it felt like there was a chain tying him to his desk. And he hated being tied down like that. On the other end, he also assisted with the many charities the company aided. It made him feel more fulfilled than proofreading contracts. But…happy? He couldn't recall the last time he had been completely and truly happy. Uncomfortable with the spotlight on him, he shone it back on her without a qualm. "What about you? Is being a detective everything you thought it would be?"

"My job is exciting," she answered slowly, one lip curled up. That was the understatement of the year. With Max's surprising news and subsequent offer, it was about to get even more exciting. "I can't say that it's everything I expected it to be but it's okay. I enjoy it."

Because it was a question he had been dying to know the answer to for years, Jim repeated the same question she had recently asked of him. "Are you happy working for your agency?"

The other side of her lip curled up. The smile wasn't joyous; held more than its share of regret to it. "I'm content there," she said, intentionally giving his words back at him. Happy? Not really. Something this week was definitely showing her was that the only place she could ever truly be happy was in Sleepyside. And a nagging little voice that she was desperately trying to ignore inserted…with this man by her side.

Jim would have been shocked if he had been able to read her mind, mainly because similar thoughts were traipsing through his. He let a silence lengthen between them. It wasn't a weird or unnerving one. It was surprisingly comfortable. He used the time to think about her answer. She was content with her choice, the same way he was with his. He couldn't help but wonder if she wanted to strive for something more than mere contentedness. She deserved better than that, as did he. Desperately needing something else to talk about, he gestured towards the valley below them. "I remember when you and Honey took that car ride into the river."

"We certainly had some crazy times." She chuckled at the memory of that mystery. Sharks coupled with an unwilling plunge into the cold, whirling water below, Honey right with her. It made her shiver. "I shouldn't have been…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned.

"Shouldn't have been…" He prompted when her voice stopped.

Trixie turned to him, clear blue eyes and an awed look to her face. It was finally time to lay a disappointment fully to rest. And wasn't it astonishing that he was the one assisting her? "Looking back, I shouldn't have been surprised that Honey decided against studying criminal justice. We found ourselves in some pretty unusual situations during the short life of our agency. Take that car ride, for example. We're lucky nothing truly terrible ever happened to us…to any of us," she tacked on since it wasn't only her and Honey who had ever been exposed to danger.

"We were lucky. Nothing 'truly terrible' ever did happen to us." Jim shook his head, thinking back on the many adventures they had shared, and thanked God that nothing serious had occurred. Then he had to rethink his thoughts. Something worse than terrible had happened as an indirect result of one of their adventures, something that he had believed to be irreversible. Their connection hadn't merely been lost that summer nearly seven years ago. It had been severely severed. Now, though…maybe there was hope for…something. It needed mulling over, that was for sure. Because there was a strain of sadness to her eyes, he quickly assured her, hating to see it on her normally joyful face, "But don't sell yourself short or forget about the good you did and continue to do. You helped out a lot of people, Trixie. Countless people. I have a feeling that you still manage to help out a lot of people, too. It's in your blood."

She had never thought of her job in that way before. Maybe it glorified it a little but there was more than a grain of truth to it. Smiling, she nodded in agreement. "I guess you could look at it that way but we have to remember that it was all of us working together, not just me." She fingered the edge of her thin sweatshirt and, because the conversation definitely needed to be lightened and taken off of more personal ground before she did something really asinine and brought up their failed relationship, she glanced up at the sky. Inspiration struck. When in doubt, talk about the weather. It never failed. "My mother has been watching the weather all week. She wants nice weather for the weekend."

Jim more than appreciated her not-so-subtle change in subject. He leaned against a large boulder. "The weather forecast is good. It's supposed to be fair for the next two days with a slight chance of rain on Sunday. Miss Trask has people coming tomorrow to set up a tent. From what I understand it is huge. All of the guests are going to be able to fit under it. It'll be up for the rehearsal so we'll get a first-hand look at it then. If the rain should come earlier, it won't matter. Everyone will stay dry."

"Honey really wanted an outside, garden wedding." It certainly suited her friend, the daughter of a millionaire many times over who was happier working as an occupational therapist than she would have been as a wealthy socialite flittering from party to party. "No matter what happens, it's going to be perfectly perfect, as Honey would say…even if I have to wear a dress," she added ruefully. Dressing up had never been her forte, would never be her forte. She much preferred her ripped and frayed jeans to a fancy dress, no matter how famous the designer.

An image of her in a dazzling golden creation hit him with the blinding force of a hurricane, made a mockery of his resolve to keep certain thoughts at bay, until he was alone and could hopefully handle them. "You looked amazing in that dress," Jim complimented before he knew of his intentions. The infamous red immediately made a stain on her cheeks and made her even more appealing to him, if that was even possible. Turning his head, he cleared his throat again and started back towards Jupiter. Distance was needed before he did something he may regret. "We should probably head back," he mumbled gruffly.

Trixie's cheeks were still red from the compliment he had given her. In slow motion, reliving the words again, she followed him towards the horses and grabbed Susie's dangling reins from the ground. "We girls are going to be spending the night with Honey tomorrow night. She wants to have one last sleepover, just like Di did the night before her wedding. What are you guys doing?"

"The same thing we did for Mart. Mr. Maypenny has generously offered the four of us his cabin again so we'll be holed up out there, roughing it in sleeping bags. We'll come back to the Manor House on Saturday, when the coast is clear." He put a foot on the stirrup, prepared to hoist himself up, and added, "We're ordering pizza for dinner. Don't tell Dan this but his cooking skills are nowhere near our cook's. He only excels at stew and grilling."

She giggled, having heard Mart expound in a similar vein for many, many years. Mart, though, always ate whatever Dan had put in front of him, so it couldn't have been that bad. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine…or Di and Mart's," she quickly amended.

"Consider it done." He tossed her a lopsided grin, his old one, and had no clue that her heart literally flipped over in her chest. Concentrating on the task at hand, he mounted Jupiter and kept the horse under control while he waited for Trixie to do the same.

She moved slower. Taking an inordinate amount of time, she stepped into the stirrup, pulled herself up, and began running over the entire day in her mind. First she had run into Jim in the stables, then she had received astonishing news from Max, of all people, and now she was halfway finished with a ride with Jim. "Today was amazing," she murmured under her breath.

"Did you say something?" Interested, Jim lifted his head.

She concentrated on smoothing a hand over Susie's mane. "I said it was a beautiful day today," Trixie altered, thinking fast. She gave one last look back at the river. "There's nothing quite like spring in Sleepyside, is there?"

There wasn't anything quite like spending time with her, a novelty Jim hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing in way too long of a time. "It sure beats the city," he replied, thinking about the place he spent the most amount of his time. A frown settled between his brow.

And California. The thought rose, unbidden, but she didn't voice it. "I think Susie enjoyed her time out," she said instead, patting the mare's velvety soft neck.

"So did Jupiter. Let's get them home." Because Jupiter preferred leading and despised following, Jim nudged him forward with his knees. They rode back on the path, in a companionable silence, both simply enjoying the beauty around them. In no time at all, they were breaking through the forest and approached the outskirts of the lawn.

Ever a fountain of energy, Trixie dismounted before they reached the stables and walked with Susie by her side. Jim copied her. He grabbed the reins from her hands, much to her surprise, and offered quickly, "Let me take care of Susie for you. It'll get you home earlier."

Trixie gifted him with one of her happy and genuine smiles, completely oblivious to the fact that it had quite a powerful effect on him. The simple and sweet gesture stole his breath, made breathing difficult, and made his hands ache to reach out for her. Because there was a sudden roaring in his ears that had absolutely nothing to do with the cheerful noise of the birds and insects from the forest, he had to strain to hear Trixie's next words.

"Thanks, Jim," Trixie said and gave Susie a long, last, soothing pat. After whispering a fond farewell to the mare, she stepped back. "I appreciate the help. I guess I'll head home, then. Moms is probably dying to tell me about her day today if she's home. She can't wait for Saturday to get here. She's excited about having another child married off." Helen was especially excited because her son was marrying a sweet, kind and lovely woman who she knew would make her son the happiest man alive.

Aware that the words were kind of stupid but unable to think of anything more intelligent to say, Jim mumbled, "The wedding's almost here." He had to force himself to look towards the house and not stare in fascination at her. "My mother is just as excited as yours. I'll bet they had a great time together today."

"I know." Trixie pulled out her headband and nervously played with the thin strip of fabric, at a loss. She didn't have a clue on how to say goodbye to Jim. Every moment of their ride together had been enjoyable and memorable. She didn't want it to end.

He was having the same problem. About to clear his throat again, he stopped himself and hid a groan. If he cleared his throat one more time, she would probably think that he was coming down with the worst case of allergies ever. Since he couldn't do that, he settled for his old, favored standby: sticking his hands in his pockets where they couldn't do any damage, like reach out for her. Since it was his turn to speak, he said, "I'll see you tomorrow at the rehearsal."

"I know," she responded again, repeating the same phrase she had recently used, and then inwardly grimaced. How a successful secret agent with the amount of power and prestige that she possessed could be reduced so low by merely sharing a nice day with the man at her side was beyond her mental capabilities. Knowing that she was going to have to ponder her response to him within the safe confines of her bedroom, Trixie turned on her heel. "Tell Honey to call me if she needs anything. Have a good evening." Waving, she turned on her heel and strode towards the well-worn and beloved path that connected their homes. When she reached it, Trixie paused and, even as she damned herself for doing it, spun around and stared back at Jim. Exactly as she had expected, he was competently leading the two horses into the stables. Since she could look her fill, she did just that and didn't move from her spot until he was gone from sight.

"What a day," she murmured under her breath. It would be tough to find one that equaled hers. Much to her astonishment, it all seemed to have started and ended with one James Winthrop Frayne II. "And what a surprise." Shaking her head at the changing winds guiding her life, she slowed her pace down to an uncharacteristic meander. She needed the slowness. There was a lot to occupy her mind on her way home.

Thanks to Pam, my sister and bundysbaby for helping me edit this story! It's always appreciated!


	18. Chapter 18

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Eighteen

Scurrying away from the small window where he had intently watched the two say farewell, Dan made it to the far wall of the stables with a few seconds to spare. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the far wall of the stables, right in line with the front door, and raised a suspicious brow when Jim came in with two horses. Fighting the urge to laugh uproariously, he attempted to smooth out his features and not let an ounce of mirth show through. However, the dancing glint in his dark eyes gave him away. "Glad to see you back from your ride, Jim. Uncle Bill told me that you shared it with an unexpected visitor," he commented, unable to stop his lips from curving upwards, and watched Jim jolt with surprise.

Jim's head snapped back. Lost in a very pleasant reverie, he hadn't noticed Dan, hadn't realized anyone else was in the stables, and hadn't been thinking about anything other than the ride he had shared with Trixie. Having someone in the stables when all he wanted was some time to process the day made his initial surprise turn to vexation. Scowling darkly in the direction of the voice, he gritted his teeth, certain of what was going to be coming his way. When it came to teasing, Dan was extremely predictable and ruthless. Worse, his friend had that infuriatingly irritating look on his face, the kind that made Jim feel like he had just heard sharp nails scraping across a blackboard. It foretold a lot of misery for him if he let Dan talk. "Don't start on me, Dan," he warned and stalked down the aisle, his good mood disappearing quicker than Mrs. Belden's fried chicken at a Bob-White picnic.

Dan held up his hands, palms out, a portrait of pure innocence. "Don't start what, Jim?" If he could have gotten away with it, he would have blinked. Since he was a male and didn't possess the necessary equipment to pull off a set of innocent blinks, he settled for a devilish grin. "I don't have a clue what you're referring to."

Resisting was useless. Jim recognized it with a sense of fatalism but gave it a valiant effort anyway. Although it was completely made-up, he offered a question, hoping that Dan would take the obvious hint and let the subject drop, "Didn't you say something about needing to help Mr. Maypenny chop some firewood today?"

"Let me see." Dan appeared to consider the question, impressed with the way Jim was trying to sidestep his questions, and tapped a finger against his chin as if he was in deep thought. "Nope. Can't say that I did." Because Jim would have loved for him to leave, he didn't make a move to vacate the premises. If anything, he looked more amused by the second. Fate had offered him a couple of unexpected boons over the past twenty-four hours. First, he had managed to take on Miss Trixie Belden and come out the winner the evening before. Now it looked like he had another unwilling victim in one James Frayne, with a whole arsenal of ammunition ready to aim his way. Life, he thought jovially, couldn't get much sweeter than that. He rested his hands on his hips, rocked back on his heels, and watched Jim with the concentration of a hawk.

"How about helping him patrol the preserve?" Jim suggested next, his words a growl. "Mr. Maypenny could always use some help patrolling."

"He would only refuse it," Dan countered smoothly, punctuating his words with a forlorn sigh. Shaking his head, he went on to explain, "You know how independent Mr. Maypenny is. He likes to do things on his own, without help from others. Even when I'm back home on a vacation, I have to practically beg him to let me help with the dishes now." It was all an outright lie since Mr. Maypenny never objected to any of his offers to help but Dan didn't share that. Instead, he let his features settle into feigned frustration.

Jim blew out a low breath and focused on a spot to the right of Dan, attempting to puzzle out a way out of his predicament. Short of tossing the reins at Dan and making a dash for the house, there wasn't much else he could do but suffer through the next few minutes. He went with his one last hope and tried to stare Dan down but was met with failure. Apparently onyx was stronger than emerald. "You're not going anywhere, are you?" he finally questioned after a moment of silence.

"Not anymore," Dan remarked with an annoying amount of good cheer. He pushed himself away from the wall and joining him, lightly whistling a tune under his breath that made the hackles start to rise on Jim's back. He ran a hand down Susie's neck and murmured a few quiet words to her before sharing, "I was about to head back to the cabin when I saw something very intriguing. Want to know what it was?"

"I'd rather not," Jim retorted smartly, emerald slits of pure exasperated fury glaring at his friend.

Blissfully ignoring the fact that Jim was wishing him some serious bodily harm, Dan leaned forward, pitched his voice low, and announced in a loud stage whisper, "I stopped by to give my best to the horses before I went to my truck. Then I saw you and Trixie, of all people, coming through the forest, obviously finishing up your ride. I thought I'd stay and visit a while longer. I mean, I know that Uncle Bill told me that you two were supposed to go riding together and all, but it was something I didn't really believe, not until I saw it with my own eyes." His eyebrows shot up in comical delight when Jim closed his eyes in weary resignation.

Exactly as he had predicted, it was inevitable. Recognizing the veracity of that irritating fact didn't help him one bit. It appeared that he was going to have to suffer through the next few minutes, no matter what. Why they couldn't have stayed at the bluffs a little while longer was beyond him. Frustrated, Jim stared up at the ceiling and gave his head a rueful shake. If they had, Dan would have been long gone by the time they had made it back to the stables. Now he had to face down his most aggravating friend. At least he had one thing going in his favor, he thought philosophically. He only had to worry about Dan and not anyone else. The thought had no sooner formed when Brian strode through the wide open front door. Jim dropped his head and stared up at the ceiling, as if he was asking the fates why they were choosing him to be the unlucky victim.

"Thank God," Brian announced to his friends and shuddered, unaware of what he had walked in on. He didn't catch the gleam in Dan's eyes or the snarl on Jim's thin lips. He lifted a foot, held it suspended in the air, and inquired easily, "I've got to know something. Before I decide to stay in here, I have to ask you a serious question. Neither of you are going to make me talk about the wedding, right? If you are, I'm going home." It came out sounding more like a threat than a promise. Brian had definitely suffered through as much wedding talk as he possibly could. He threw a nervous glance back at the Manor House, thought about the women inside, and shivered.

Dan gave a negative shake and sauntered his way towards the door, his thumbs tucked into the loops of his jeans. "You're safe here, Brian." Competently, he closed the door swiftly to block out Miss Trask, Madeleine Hart Wheeler or Helen Belden. If any of them should feel the sudden urge to search out the groom and drag him back inside for another round of wedding discussions, the closed door would block their view into the stables. He figured Honey wouldn't do that to her fiancé, even if it was her current favorite topic of conversation. She had too much compassion for those less fortunate. "Me and Jim solemnly swear to not discuss the 'W' word when in your presence. Right, Jim?" He nudged Jim with his elbow, who managed an inarticulate grunt which Dan took for assent.

"I'll take your word on it." Brian headed towards the corner and practically melted into an uncomfortable folding chair that had been relegated to the stables years ago. As he sat down, it tilted back and reminded him exactly why it was no longer in use at the main house. One back leg was bent. He balanced his body carefully, made certain he wouldn't topple over, and muttered under his breath, "Don't get me wrong. I can't wait to get married to your sister, Jim. I just think I'm going to go crazy if your mother or my mother starts asking my opinion on the size of a bow to decorate the aisle or the placement of the string quartet." He was too well-mannered to let them know that he didn't actually care about the minute details of the wedding. All he wanted was to make Honey his wife. That was it…nothing more, nothing less. Feeling that he had suffered long enough, he had escaped from the room as soon as it was humanly possible and had wandered his way over to the stables, where he hoped to hide out until the coast was clear and he could spirit his fiancée away for an intimate dinner for two at their house.

"I can imagine it's been tough." Dan ran his tongue over his top teeth, contemplated calling Mart to come over and join them but dismissed the thought as swiftly as it had come. There wouldn't be enough time for their friend to get there. He highly doubted that Jim would sit around and merrily wait for a third one to join them in a round of friendly but unwelcome purely teasing jests. Poor Mart, he thought with a shake of his head. He was going to be sorely upset that he had missed out on their impromptu male meeting of the Bob-Whites when he told him about it later. "Bows and favors. Tulle and organza. Bouquets and centerpieces. I feel for you, man. Really, I do."

Normally Jim would have kept his mouth shut and let Dan take on the role of their resident mischief maker. However, a new target had presented itself. He was more than grateful and didn't want to overlook the opportunity to cast attention away from him, if at all possible. "It seems to me that we had a conversation like this with Mart last year right before his wedding to Di. Only I think Mart had a vein by the side of his forehead that twitched every time someone mentioned the 'W' word."

"You're right, Frayne." Dan peered closer, brushed back a lock of Brian's hair, and inspected Brian's forehead, ignoring the annoyed swat that his friend gave him. Dropping his hand, he stepped back and turned to Jim, laughter in his voice. "You're not going to believe it. It must be a Belden trait. His vein is twitching, too."

"It's not twitching from talk about the wedding," Brian grumbled sullenly. "It's twitching because of you lame-brained idiots. Enough of this, already. If I thought your mother wasn't waiting to give me a pop quiz on the ins and outs of the wedding and reception, I'd get up and head back to the house." He closed his eyes, searching for much-needed peace, and, with the talent that all doctors possessed, began to make-believe that the uncomfortable chair was really a large, overly stuffed recliner instead. A small smile touched his lips when his body began to relax. If it weren't for the two standing in front of him, he would have been able to fall into a light doze right then and there.

Dan grumbled in sheer disappointment and looked accusingly at Brian, who didn't even bother to open his eyes to glare back at him. Frowning in disappointment, "Dr. Belden, you are no fun to tease at all."

One dark eye cracked open. "Hey, I had to live in the same house with Mart, Trixie and Bobby when we were growing up. I had to grow a pretty thick skin to survive being around those three," he declared, remembering a few of the testier times in his house. He wouldn't have traded those wild, crazy, and memorable times for anything. Even when his siblings were at their most argumentative, they were the best ever. He reclosed his one eye while his smile grew at the strength of the memories.

"I believe that." Jim let out a deep chuckle, recalled a few of the more livelier times at Crabapple Farm, and started to unsaddle Jupiter. "If you two are finished, you could give me a hand with the horses." He straightened his back, certain he knew what one of the dark-haired men behind him was poised to do, and amended his words quietly without looking over his shoulder, "And I mean help out. No clapping, you jerk."

Caught in the act of doing just that, Dan made a face behind Jim's back and dropped his hands but made no move to reach for Susie's dangling reins. Instead, he turned to Brian, gave him a not-so-gentle kick to the shin that made the good doctor open his eyes and glower at him, and reiterated, "That would explain why you're not a satisfactory teasing target at all."

"I don't know if I should be offended or relieved," Brian remarked dryly, borrowing a move from his sister and rolling his eyes. Reaching down, he rubbed his chin and reluctantly stood up from his seat.

"Relieved," Jim answered from behind Jupiter. "Make yourself useful, gentlemen. Grab Susie and start helping," he ordered the others and concentrated on his horse, letting the others see to Trixie's.

"Since you're not going to respond to any teasing, Brian, I'll let you in on a little secret. I know a much better target than you," Dan murmured softly to Brian, so soft that Jim didn't hear. It took a minute for Brian to comprehend. Once he did, his handsome face lit up with approval. Nodding together, Dan reached out and lifted the bridle off of Susie. He sounded like a professor lecturing their students when he began, "Jim returned a few minutes ago from his ride. Normally, when someone goes for a ride, they usually only take one horse. Don't you find it odd that Jim took two horses out for a ride today?" he asked, trying hard not to let out a chortle of glee. "It's simple math. One-to-one correspondence. I'm pretty positive they teach it in kindergarten. One rider per one horse. How on earth did Jim handle two?"

From behind Jupiter, Jim laid his head on his horse's neck. Just once, just once, he would love to have the opportunity to get Dan back. Unfortunately, in all the years he had known Mangan, the opportunity had never arisen. He hated being the target. His last hope at leaving the stables relatively unscathed was hoping that Brian wasn't as bloodthirsty as his younger brother and Dan's usual partner in crime.

Brian started unsaddling the mare, knowing his moves well. He had watched Dan and Mart work together often enough over the years. Settling into the role of sidekick was easy. All he had to do was answer any question Dan gave him and put in a few thoughtful, if intentionally irksome, comments on his own. It shouldn't be that hard, although it wasn't something he had participated in much over the past few years. "It is odd, Dan. Jim's a good horseman but two horses at once? That's unheard of."

"And Susie, of all horses." Dan took off the saddle blanket next and dropped it over the edge of the stall with a small thud. Carefully leading his friend through the motions, he questioned, his voice dry and wry at the same time, "We all know whose favorite she is, don't we?"

Jim grabbed the brush and began carefully grooming Jupiter, who offered him a sympathetic look that seemed to apologize for the treatment he was receiving from his friends. Because he knew Dan wanted to draw it out, a usual move, he decided to curtail his fun and shared before the idiots he had the misfortune to call friends brought it up, "Trixie went for a ride with me. She left a few minutes ago and is on her way to Crabapple Farm."

Dan gave Jim a rebuking glare. It wasn't quite as much fun having the intended target offer up the information without a fight, but, he realized with a small shrug, he could still work with it. It wasn't the end of the world or, in this case, the end of their teasing. "Did you hear that, Brian? Jim and Trixie went for a ride. Together. As in alone. Do you think hell finally froze over or what?"

Pursing his lips together, Brian strode over to a small window and made a big show of looking out of it. "I can't answer that one, Dan."

"What are you doing?" Dan wondered curiously. He grabbed a brush and with extreme care began brushing the gentle mare and stared in puzzlement at his friend.

"Checking to see if there are any flying pigs out there," Brian called out over his shoulder, grinning when Dan dropped his brush and choked out a startled and extremely appreciative laugh.

"Sometimes, Dr. Belden, you manage to shock the hell out of me." Forgetting the brush lying on the floor, he joined him at the window and stared outside. "And you're right. There aren't any pigs out there at all."

Jim surprised both of them by chuckling. It was terse and it was soft, nothing boisterous or amused, but it wasn't the response the two of them had been looking for from the redhead. "You two need to change your occupations. Seriously, you could start touring the country and share your many talents with the world. Or maybe you should audition for the next season of _America's Got Talent_. If you won, we could watch your comedy act in Vegas."

Dan paused, a frown wrinkling his forehead, and let out a grunt of disapproval. With his laugh and his words, Frayne had managed to pop their balloon. There wasn't an ounce of fun left to their joking, not if he didn't get all huffy, turn bright red, or clam up. Instead, he was calmly grooming Jupiter as if he didn't have a care in the world or had two friends who wanted to poke some serious fun at his expense. Dan barely resisted the urge to kick the wall, hating to have his plans curtailed. "Hell, Jim. It's not enjoyable if you don't participate, you know."

"Come on, Frayne. I always miss out on this type of stuff," Brian added, starting to rub down the saddle, and staring at Jim. "Where's your sense of humor?"

Jim aimed a wide grin their way, pleased that he was finally able to come out on top. It rarely ever happened when Dan got going. He could tell from the scowl on his friend's face that he didn't appreciate it, not one little bit, and that knowledge only made Jim's grin widen that much more. "I've got a great sense of humor. Go on, Brian. Take your best shot," he invited, turning cocky with his impending victory.

Much like his sister was apt to do, Brian opened his mouth, closed it with an audible snap, and let out a small humph of pure disgruntlement. He shared a quizzical look with Dan and complained, "You're right. It's not any fun if he's inviting us to tease him."

"No, it's not." Dan moved over to the other side of Susie and reluctantly let the thought of annoying their friend go. It wasn't going to happen. For some reason Jim had figured out how to thwart their plans. This time. Dan rather hoped there would be other ones when he wasn't able to. "You know, Brian," he grumbled disconsolately under his breath, aiming a killer of a glare at Jim, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say that the truce idea that the numbskull over there thought up is working out better than he ever expected it to."

Jim let out a small grunt in answer, unperturbed by Dan's comment. When Jupiter was finished, he led him into his stall, closed him in, and returned to start working on cleaning up the equipment. Understanding that it would bother Dan, he borrowed a trademark move from his friend and started whistling under his breath.

The ebullient whistle grated on Dan's nerves. He did not like having the tables turned on him which Jim had finally managed to do with a certain amount of flair that he had never suspected the redhead capably of owning. He shared another puzzled look at Brian, who threw up his hands in defeat. "Sorry, Brian," he said in a bewildered aside. "Annoying Jim is usually more fun than this."

"So be it." Brian shrugged his shoulders. Maybe Mart had to be present for a more satisfying round of teasing. Seriously, with no thoughts of teasing left, he posed another question, "Where did you and Trixie go, Jim?"

"Over to the bluffs," came the easy answer. Jim concentrating on placing the saddle in its rightful spot, a slight flush on his face that the others couldn't see. The memory of their time at the bluffs was sweet, potently so, from the moment they arrived to the interesting and extensive conversation they had shared. And they had touched. Again. It was certainly something to analyze, once he was within the safe confines of his room and out of view of the bumbling idiots by his side. "She's always liked that spot, you know, even if she and Honey spent a fair amount of time in that water a long time ago."

"The bluffs." It seemed like an appropriate spot. Dan led Susie into her stall and carefully closed her in. "You were gone for a while. What did you two talk about?"

"Our jobs," Jim replied, intentionally keeping his answers short. If they wanted to know more, they were going to have to ask him about it.

Dan hated being irritated. It was a feeling he tried hard not to cultivate. In fact, he much rather preferred it when he was making his friends feel that way, not the other way around. It sucked having the proverbial shoe put on the other foot. "Is she happy about her new job offer? She seemed okay with it when we talked about it back at the diner." It flummoxed him that he was asking Jim, of all people, information about Trixie. He cocked his head to the side to wait for the answer.

"She said that it'll bring her more responsibility but she seems content with it," he explained, using the word they had each shared to describe their feelings about their work. He eyed the saddle carefully, saw a small spot that would make Regan frown with disappointment, and set to work fixing it. "She was more excited hearing about her friends out there and their new arrival." It was on the top of his tongue to share the astonishing news she had let slip but he bit down on it. He had given her his word not to say a word about Mart and Di. The last thing he wanted to do was break his word to her, especially now, when they were at a point in their relationship that they hadn't been at in years.

Having heard enough, Brian dropped his cloth and slapped his hands on his hips. "All right. What the hell has happened here?" Pointing an accusing finger at Jim, he declared vehemently, "You have been low on Trixie's totem pole for years, which shouldn't come as a surprise since she has also been extremely low on yours, too. How is it that you are suddenly getting an inside track into her thoughts?"

"I don't know anything that you don't already know," Jim responded in a cool and calm voice. Inwardly, he was rolling with laughter. It wasn't too often that he was the one making his friends insane. Turning the tables was more fun than he had ever expected it to be.

_I still know something that you don't_. The thought came quickly to Dan. He didn't voice it. He couldn't. There was no way in hell that he was going to tell them the truth about Trixie's job. Dan tucked his head quickly from their view and stared down at the floor, not wanting anyone to see his face, because he didn't want to give away his thoughts or Trixie's big secret.

"You're wrong. You just got more of a thorough answer than any of us did." Brian scrubbed a hand over his handsome if bewildered face. Not only were Jim and Trixie taking horse rides together, they were voluntarily talking. Not merely conversing about inconsequential items like they had excelled at for years but actually talking, as in talking about important and vital subjects. It was going to take some getting used to. Not that it was a bad thing. Not by a long shot. It was simply…unexpected. Since Jim possessed an inside track, he wondered aloud, "Anything else you need to share with us about my sister?"

Jim didn't miss the emphasis on my, figured Brian's nose was bent a little out of joint because he had received a better explanation from Trixie than any of the others. "The girls are spending the night with Honey tomorrow," he informed him, smiling because it felt so damn good to know more than either of them. "They wanted to have their own sleepover before the wedding."

"I thought that's what they would do." Grateful to be on to a new subject, Dan added, "It seems to be the thing to do before a Bob-White wedding." He almost, almost, brought up the supposition that Trixie would most likely have an all-girl sleepover the night before her wedding, whenever one should happen, but didn't think Jim was in that good of a mood to hear about a possible wedding for her. One needed a serious boyfriend for that. To his knowledge, Trixie was seriously lacking in that department…the exact same way that Jim was, too. Neither had a significant other and hadn't for, well, ever. The sudden realization and what it meant made his eyes widen.

"And we're hanging out at the cabin, right, Dan?" Brian looked towards his friend for confirmation.

Dan had to shake away his recent thoughts and nodded at Brian. "Mart's in charge of the food," he answered with a chuckle. "He wanted pizza this time around so that's what we're going to get. Bring your sleeping bags and anything else you may want."

"You put Mart in charge of the food?" Brian repeated in an astonished tone of voice. "You have got to be kidding me. We'll be lucky if there is anything left by the time he gets it to the cabin."

"Don't worry. I'll bring in some back-up," Jim hastened to assure him. He made a mental note to discuss something quick and easy to have their cook make that he could bring, just in case.

"That's good. At least we won't starve," Brian stated sarcastically. Moving on to a more pleasant subject, he added, "I've got a bunch of movies already picked out for the night, too. We'll go there right after the rehearsal dinner."

"Sounds like it's going to be fun," Jim murmured. With a practiced eye, he looked over the tack. Finding nothing amiss, he tossed down his cloth and started down the aisle. He had a lot to think about. The day had been unexpected, from the very start to the very end. "I'll catch you later, guys." Whistling again, feeling much lighter than he had in a long time, Jim threw back the door and started loping across the lawn, his hands swinging with each step. A week ago he wouldn't have predicted that he was looking forward to the rehearsal and the wedding.

Brian and Dan stared after the redheaded man as he walked across the lawn, matching expressions of pure bafflement on their faces. "Can you believe that Jim and Trixie actually spent voluntary time together today?" Brian inquired, glancing at Dan.

"It's crazy, that's for sure." Dan shook his head and offered a sharp glance over the horses and the equipment. Satisfied that everything was in order, he fished out his truck keys, and started towards the front door. "It may be too soon for this and I can't even believe that I'm thinking it after all this time but…do you think he and Trixie are going to patch things up?"

"I honestly don't know," Brian replied quietly. He would like it, very much, as would many of the residents within a five mile radius. The only person who wouldn't be ecstatic over a reunion between the two would be…An ugly grimace crossed his face. His father. Brian didn't know what a friendly Jim and Trixie would do to his dad, let alone a reconciled one. To his knowledge, Peter hadn't spoken more than a few short words to Jim since Trixie had moved away. He preferred to let his fixed and angry glares do his talking for him. Then he shrugged it off. It wasn't his worry, after all. Peter Belden would have to deal with it. And there was also his mother. Helen was more than capable of keeping him in check, should he not be ecstatic over the entire situation. As long as it didn't interfere with his wedding, he was fine with it.

"It's going to be much more entertaining around here. I don't know about you but I was getting pretty tired of the rift that existed between the two of them." Dan waved farewell to his friend and sauntered his way to the truck but he didn't whistle. Jim had taken the fun out of it for the time being.

"Tell me about it." Even though he didn't want to talk anymore about the wedding, Brian headed back over to the house. He prayed that he would run into Honey, and only Honey, and that he could sneak her away from the combined clutches of their mothers and Miss Trask. Maybe even for that quiet dinner at their house that he desperately wanted. It could be the last real alone time they had until after the wedding. Nodding, he imagined the possibility with great fondness and grinned when he let himself into the house. Now all he had to do was find his fiancée, hopefully within the next few seconds, and whisk her away from there before anyone could stop him.

Special thanks to three terrific ladies for their help: my sister, bundysbaby and Pam! Thanks again. You're the best!


	19. Chapter 19

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Nineteen

Trixie stood in front of the mirror in her room. It only showed her from the waist up, which was usually fine for her. She had never been one to worry over her appearance before. Why she seemed to suddenly care about it she didn't want to contemplate or face the glaring answer. Instead, she placed her hands on the smooth top of her dresser and leaned forward, inspecting the make-up she had actually taken the time to apply. A little mascara and a lightly applied amount of eye shadow brought more attention to her eyes, a bit of blush highlighted her cheekbones, and, even as she was cursing herself out for doing it, a touch of lip gloss to make her lips look shiny. There were even a set of thin gold hoops dangling from her ears, she thought with a hint of disgust aimed solely at herself. The disgust was there because she had fallen prey to the more feminine arts that she generally avoided like the plague. The reason behind the application made her frustrated. She wasn't doing it for her or for the rehearsal. Oh, no. She tossed the thin tube down on top of the dresser. It landed with a sharp click and rolled towards the edge. It was time to call a spade a spade. She was doing it for…Jim.

"I thought I was beyond this," she grumbled disconsolately and turned away from her reflection. Agitated fingers straightened the bottom of the dress that skimmed centimeters above her knee. Squinching her eyes shut, she ordered herself not to turn back to the mirror but, of course, she wasn't able to follow through. Frowning, feeling like she was thirteen again and preparing for the dance at Di's house, she pivoted on her low heels and sent a look towards the poor, innocent mirror that should have reduced the inanimate object into a pile of dust.

The dress she had picked out for the rehearsal was simple in design, as per her preference. She had been banned from picking black, which would have been her first choice of color. Honey, as well as her mother, had forbidden it, quite vehemently, through various emails and voice mail messages during the past few months. Blue had been taken out of the equation long ago. Other than in jeans, it wasn't a color she had worn in an extremely long time. Without two of her preferred choices, she had settled on a rich burgundy. Thin flutter sleeves covered her shoulders, left most of her arms bare. The material crossed in the front in the shape of a demure V, leaving only a small amount of skin exposed. The material gathered at her midriff and then fell in straight lines to land right above her knees. She turned around, stared at her back, which was modestly covered, and shook her head. Loose curls flowed freely and danced around her shoulders.

"I'm not going to waste any more time," Trixie grumbled. She stared at the tube of lipstick and, in a defiant move, did not put it into her small purse. She left all of her cosmetics on the dresser, unwilling to refresh her make-up should it be necessary, and passed by a bottle of perfume her mother had discreetly placed in her room, refusing to put it on. With her nose in the air, she grabbed her overnight bag from her bed and sailed through her door. She clicked her way down the stairs, already wishing for more comfortable shoes on her feet than the dressy black ones.

When she hit the bottom of the floor, she dropped her bag and found her father sitting on his recliner, the newspaper spread out before him. Heaving a sigh, unmindful of her apparel, she flopped down on the sofa. Her skirt fluttered before settling around her legs. She grunted out a greeting. "Hey, Dad."

He lifted his head from the study of life in Sleepyside and slipped his glasses off. "Hello, Princess," he replied, smiling at his daughter. True to form, she was already fidgeting with her dress. His smile grew as he watched her tug uselessly at her short sleeves, almost as if she expected the material to grow and lengthen merely because she was touching it. "Leave it alone," he advised her, trying not to laugh at her disgruntled expression. "You look beautiful."

She lifted her head and returned his smile, refusing to sniff at his compliment. Beautiful, she highly doubted, but she understood that parents saw things in their flesh and blood that others simply did not, even their own children. Leaning over, appreciating it, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, Dad. You know how much I hate dressing up."

"It's never been one of your favorite pastimes," he answered, reaching out to give his little girl a one-armed hug. He folded up the newspaper, put it on the end table, and slid his glasses into the pocket of his charcoal gray suit. A brief look of exasperation crossed his face. "Your mother is still getting ready. She threw me out of our bedroom because I was 'bothering' her. Bothering," he repeated, shaking his head in wonder. "All I did was tell her that there was nothing wrong with the dress she had on when she asked my opinion on how it looked on her. It was apparently the wrong thing to say. She got all huffy, tossed the newspaper at me, and ordered me to go downstairs where I wouldn't do any damage. She then proceeded to rifle through her closet. I'm assuming she's now trying on every single dress she owns before she finds the right one." He let out a long-suffering sigh and glanced a warily towards the stairs, hoping Helen hadn't heard his long-winded diatribe.

She could picture the scene perfectly in her mind. Once her chuckles died down, Trixie offered in her mother's defense, "She's so excited, Dad. Not that I paid too much attention to her when she brought it up but I seem to remember her mentioning that she bought a couple of dresses for the rehearsal and the wedding. She said that she was having too hard of a time deciding on which one to wear and wanted to have a few options."

"I know." Peter sighed again. "It's the exact same thing that happened at Mart's wedding. She wants to be perfect. Crazy woman. Doesn't she know that she already is?"

Trixie drew in a soft breath. "Oh, Daddy," she whispered, touched. Even when pushed to past the point of exasperation it was obvious how much her father loved her mother. After all these years and all the trouble their children had put them through, their love was as strong, or maybe stronger, than it had been when they first married. "You'd better tell her that tonight, after you get back home. She's going to love it. Although I think I'd leave out the crazy part," she added as a wise after-thought with another low giggle. "Somehow, I think that there's the slightest chance that she might take a tiny bit offense to that."

"I'd probably end up sleeping on the sofa," Peter replied, laughing with her. "I'd be willing to bet you anything that Helen is going to come down those stairs in the very dress I saw her in. She'll try on the others and then decide that the first one was the best after all," he predicted astutely, understanding his wife better than Helen realized.

"That's a fool's bet," Trixie countered, refusing to take it. "I'm not going to take you up on it. She'll go with her first choice. It's simply going to take her a while to get back to it."

"That's got to be the Johnson in her," Peter mumbled under his breath. He aimed a wink at Trixie, including her in his next words. "Us Beldens are different. We are generally more decisive about things. Once we make a decision, we stick with it, right from the start. We rarely ever go back."

Trixie's eyes went wide for the barest of moments while she let the meaning sink in. She had never thought of it like that. His assessment of a Belden trait was extremely shrewd and perceptive. It suited her and her siblings well. She was a terrific example of it. Once she had made the decision to transfer out to California University, no one had been able to sway her from it. Years later, she was still out there. She blew out an extremely slow breath. Yeah, she was a perfect example of it. Pursing her lips, she pondered her father's revelation, unsure of how it made her feel.

Her father missed her preoccupation. "Anyway," he continued, glancing at the clock on the wall, "we've got plenty of time. We don't have to get up to the Wheelers for the rehearsal for another hour. That should give your mother and your youngest brother time to get ready. Brian mentioned that he wants us to get there about fifteen minutes early so that everyone can find out where their places are."

"It's been a nice day," Trixie remarked after a moment, putting her recent thoughts on hold until the evening was over. She would mull it over then. "The ladies in the wedding party spent it together. Honey's other bridesmaids arrived today, too."

"That's nice." He vaguely remembered Brian talking about Honey needing two others to complete out the wedding party. Both Dan and Bobby had needed a partner for it. It wouldn't have been right to have unequal numbers. Since she needed them, Honey had settled on two friends she had met during her years at NYU.

"They're staying at the Inn. Luckily, Mr. Wheeler blocked off all of the rooms there once the wedding date was set, plus at a few other motels in the area. Most of the guests will be housed at the Inn and at a few other locations. It's going to be a big wedding, maybe even bigger than Di's." Trixie shuddered at the thought. Should she ever get married, it wasn't going to be with all the formal grandeur as her two best friends. Nope. Short and simple would suit her best, of that she had no doubt. And, she secretly suspected, her brothers would also have preferred it that way.

"Miss Trask has everything well under control. Although," Peter leaned forward and shared a conspiratorial look with his daughter, "I talked to Brian last night. He wanted to commiserate with me about being a groom. He asked me if it was normal for the groom to have a lack of interest in discussing the wedding. Apparently, he got roped into doing that a few times yesterday. I told him it was very normal and nothing to worry about."

Merry blue eyes peeped back at him. "Yes, he did." Trixie chortled with glee at her big brother's bad luck. "It'll all be worth it, though."

"The wedding's important but it's only the start," Peter shared wisely, repeating what he had said to Brian on the phone last night. His own wedding day was many years in the past but it was as bright and brilliant in his mind as if it had happened only yesterday. He honestly couldn't recall details. The floral arrangements, the decorations, the seating chart, or the menu hadn't made a huge impression on him. They hadn't been important. The memory of how Helen looked in her wedding gown when she had started down the aisle was crystal clear to him. She had been stunning, the best thing he had ever seen in his life. "It's essential, don't get me wrong, especially to the bride. However, what comes after it is even better."

Trixie's thoughts immediately turned to Mart, Di and the news that they were planning on sharing with their families on Sunday. Her features softened. Before she broke her word to Di again, she hastily cleared her throat and glanced down at her nails. Inspiration struck. "Honey took all of her bridesmaids and our mothers out to a local spa this morning while Miss Trask handled the final touches. I met Courtney and Maya, the other bridesmaids, briefly at her graduation from NYU. Celia also brought Leah, Honey's flower girl. We had a really nice time together." She held up her finger nails which were rounded and still short. They shone with a lovely shade of sparkling sand, a color that was somewhere between beige and colorless. No matter how hard Honey or Di had tried to persuade her, she flat out refused to have any pink painted onto her nails. Flippantly, she joked, "I tried to talk Honey into letting me get a different color, like neon orange of fire engine red, but she absolutely refused to let me. I can't imagine why."

His wife wouldn't have been pleased by the suggestion. "I think it was a wonderful way for all you ladies to spend the day together. You and Helen were back in time to greet Bobby when he got home from college, too." It was good to have all his children on their home turf, if not all residing under his roof. Bobby had skipped out on his last college course of the afternoon to drive back to Sleepyside in time to get ready for the rehearsal. He hadn't seemed to mind missing out on his biology course.

Trixie glanced towards the stairway. The shower was running, which meant that he was just beginning his preparations for the evening ahead. She cocked an eyebrow and joked, "It's a good thing we have some time to spare. Forget about Moms and her dilemma with what dress to wear. Bobby's the one who's going to put us behind schedule."

"I think it could be a tight race between the two of them," Peter replied, but very quietly, in case Helen suddenly possessed super hearing and could listen in on their conversation through the floorboards above them.

Trixie went with her old stand-by and rolled her eyes. Glad for a little extra time, aware that she was going to be spending a large amount of time on her feet over the next couple of hours, she slipped off her shoes and tucked her stockinged feet underneath her body, making herself comfortable on the sofa. She absently picked at the tag on an embroidered throw pillow, a gift from Aunt Alicia. "I know it's stupid to say this but I can't believe that the day is finally here. We're going to rehearse the wedding tonight and then, tomorrow, it's really going to happen. I can remember perfectly when Brian and Mart surprised me and came home early from that summer camp when I was thirteen. They met Honey and Jim for the first time. Who would have thought that meeting would lead to this?" She smoothed a hand over her skirt and missed the way her father's eyes flared briefly at the mention of Brian's best man.

It took him a moment to answer. Overlooking Jim completely, which was clearly his preference, he concentrated on the sentiment of her thoughts, mentally patting himself on the back for keeping a tight lid on his feelings. "Where does the time go?" he murmured quietly. It didn't seem all that long ago to him that he and Helen were walking through that exact front door with a newborn Bobby and three curious and excited children watching on, all wondering how the newest arrival was going to affect their family. While Crabapple Farm had stretchy walls, all the Beldens within had very stretchy hearts. He reached out, covered her hand with one of his, and squeezed lightly.

She squeezed back. "I couldn't be happier. First Mart married one of my best friends and now Brian is doing the exact same thing. Can it get more perfect than that?" Sighing happily, she settled back against the cushions of the old, comfortable sofa.

"Personally, I like the fact that both of them are going to be residing on Glen Road," Peter answered without thinking. He sat up when Trixie went very still and apologized contritely, "I'm sorry, Trixie. I am. I didn't mean anything by that."

"No. I know." She mustered up a smile for his sake. It always hurt when someone in her family made a remark like that. It didn't happen often and it certainly wasn't done on purpose but it always managed to cut. Deeply. As happy as it would make her father, as well as the rest of her family, she couldn't make the response that there was always the chance that she would move back to Sleepyside someday in the near future. It would give all of them false hope and, she realized fatalistically, was highly unlikely with the acceptance of her new position within the CDA. Max had sent her a very short text message right before lunch…a simple 'congrats', which let her know that the Chief had accepted his suggestion to make Trixie his partner in lieu of Jocelyn. "Believe me, I know."

Desperate to erase the trace of sadness he had unwittingly put in her lovely china blue eyes, Peter leaned over the arm of his chair and tucked a stray curl back behind her ear. Moving onto a safer subject, he inquired, "I'm certain you've been briefed on the plans for tonight, probably even better than I have been. All I've been told is the arrival time and that we're having a choice of roasted chicken, stuffed pork chops, or prime rib for dinner. What should I expect when we get to the Manor House?"

One terrific thing about her father was that he always knew when to let things go with her. He never pushed even when he didn't like or approve of her decisions. "We have the rehearsal at six," she said, glancing at the clock. "Miss Trask will give us bridesmaids our directions for the ceremony. Honey said it's pretty basic and very similar to Di's wedding. I don't expect anything to be that different. Basically, I only have to worry about not tripping on my way down the aisle," she explained in a soft, slightly mocking voice.

"Trixie! You're not going to do that!" her father admonished her.

"We'll see. I've been known to trip before, you know." She shrugged a shoulder. "After the rehearsal, we're heading over to the country club for the dinner. Then me and Di are going to meet Honey back at the Manor House for Honey's last sleepover as a single lady. Brian, Mart, Dan and Jim are spending the night together at Mr. Maypenny's cabin."

The second mention did it. He couldn't prevent it, couldn't contain, and, worse, didn't want to. His eyes narrowed into thin dark slits, his frown deepened degree by degree, and a flush smeared its way across his handsome face. "Sounds good," he practically growled out, thinking about the Frayne boy with a glower that was completely out of character for him.

Trixie's mouth fell open. Rarely, very rarely, had she ever seen her father look like that, if ever. She actually couldn't recall ever seeing him that angry before, not even when Bobby had found several different permanent markers and scribbled an impressive scene on the dining room wall at the age of three or when Mart had backed the family sedan into a tree because he had been talking to Di on his cell phone. Hell, he had never even looked at her like that during any of her past escapades, no matter how harrowing or dangerous they had been. It was blatantly obvious that she wasn't the only Belden Jim hadn't been on the best of terms with for a long time. "Daddy!" she gasped out and touched his forearm, distressed by her realization.

"What is it, Princess?" he wondered, smoothing his features out the best that he could, inwardly cursing himself for letting Trixie see a glimpse of his feelings for that boy, as he often referred to Jim in his mind. He had managed to avoid him during Mart's wedding, only giving him a short, crisp greeting upon arrival, and had succeeded in staying out of his vicinity through the rest of the celebration. It could be a little harder this time around, he realized with chagrin, since Brian had the bad taste to choose him as his best man. There was also the annoying fact that Brian was marrying the redhead's sister, too, which loosely made him an almost member of the family. If that didn't suck, he didn't know what else would.

"You're still angry about me and Jim, aren't you?" Trixie spoke, in complete disbelief. Most of her energies had always centered on keeping herself calm and in control any time she had been around Jim. She hadn't taken the time to truly analyze her father's, was flabbergasted by the fact that he possessed some extremely powerful and strong feelings towards Jim. Her lips tilted down. She didn't like it.

"Ah, Trixie!" Peter threw up his hands and, needing to expend some energy, stood up from his chair. "I don't have any anger directed to you at all. I'm proud of you and what you've accomplished since you left home. I can't help but wish that you had been able to do it all closer to us but that's something all parents wish for. Any parent worth their salt wants what's best for their child. You firmly believe you've found it in California. Since you do, I'm right there by you, supporting you. We all are." He ran a hand through his dark hair, blew out a frustrated breath. "No. I'm not angry at you at all. Any lingering anger I have is all reserved for…Jim." He nearly spit out the name.

"It's not his fault." Copying her father, Trixie stood up, skirted around the old, scarred coffee table, and strode swiftly towards him. She waited until she was directly in front of him before speaking. "At least, not entirely. Daddy, we made the mess together. And we did an extremely good job of it, too, I might add. But I'm finally ready to let it stay in the past, where it belongs. I think he feels the same way. More than enough time has gone by. It simply doesn't seem all that important to me anymore. It's time to let it go." Astonished that the words were coming out of her mouth, Trixie took a small step back. The truce hadn't merely helped smooth the way for Brian and Honey's wedding. Oh, no. It had helped settle a huge, gaping wound in her soul. Now the question was where it would take her.

Peter looked closely at his girl. There was an odd look to her eyes, one of softening and sweetness, and one that he had seen often enough during her teenage years. Only one person could be responsible for its reappearance. "Damn it all, Trixie," he ground out, frustrated with her choice. "You're letting him back in. Aren't you?"

Her blue eyes widened in shock. She couldn't believe that she was that transparent, not when she had prided herself on keeping her feelings to herself. "Oh, no. Not like that, Daddy," she spoke, her words quick, insistent and ringing a little too loudly and forcefully for her own liking. "Believe me, it's nothing like that. Jim and I merely came to an agreement at the beginning of the week. A truce, for Honey and Brian's sake. He suggested it. We didn't want to cause any problems for either of them because, well, because this week is entirely about them, so we're actually getting along better than we have in years."

She was also speaking too quickly. Her words were coming out in a torrid rush and there was tell-tale splash of red on her cheeks. "A truce. Between you and Jim," Peter repeated, not mollified in the least, staring at her suspiciously. "I see." And he did see, more than she knew. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, that damn redheaded nephew of their old neighbors at Ten Acres and now the adopted son of their newer ones was weaseling his way back into her affections. It was going to bear some close watching on his part, he decided with another unsettled frown. He was going to have to keep a close eye on the two during the rehearsal and the wedding.

Trixie had never realized her father could frown like that. It was actually intimidating. Years of training helped her stand her ground. She didn't give him an inch. "Yes. You should see. It's for Honey and Brian. In fact, you should do the same thing," she challenged him and stared him down when he gaped back at her.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, astonished. The only possible response didn't seem possible. There was no way he was going to agree to anyting remotely close to a truce with the man he viewed responsible for running his daughter off. No way. Juvenile, maybe. Parental, definitely. Either way one looked at it, he didn't have it within his heart to turn the other cheek, not on this one, not when his princess had been hurt.

"Daddy!" Trixie exclaimed again, reading a stubbornness in his features that shocked her. It appeared she may have inherited that trait from her father. "You're going to have to put it behind you; at least, for tonight and tomorrow. You need to keep whatever you feel for Jim tucked away. It's not as important as the wedding," she explained earnestly, shocking her father more with the strength of her arguments. "On Sunday, you can go back to feeling whatever it is that you're feeling but you've got to overlook it for now. Neither Brian nor Honey want any unpleasantness at their wedding. They deserve a nice, happy wedding. We owe it to them."

"I couldn't agree more," Helen announced, standing on the bottom step with one hand resting on the railing. Dressed in a long dove gray dress with her hair pulled up in a neat French twist and matching pearls dancing in her ears and resting within the hollow of her neck, she looked spectacular. "Trixie, you took the words right out of my mouth. I've been saying the exact same thing to him for over a month now. Maybe you'll finally be able to get through to him."

As it always did when he saw her dressed up, his mouth went dry and his mind shut down. Forgetting that he was annoyed at his daughter for daring to take Jim's side against him, he rushed over to his wife and took both of her hands within his. "Good choice," he murmured approvingly, causing Helen to giggle like a schoolgirl instead of the mother of four that she was. He helped her take the last step down to the floor and, when her feet were on the solid hardwood floor, kissed her, long and deep.

Trixie averted her eyes and suddenly found the hem of her dress very interesting. She did her best to ignore the kissing couple, who closely resembled lovesick teenagers and not a married couple of twenty-plus years. While she successfully ignored them, she couldn't prevent a spear of envy from shooting through her. What would it be like to have a man look at her the way her father was looking at her mother, even after many years of marriage and more than a few children? Mart had that same look for Di. Brian certainly had it for Honey. And someone used to look at her in the exact same way. The thread of envy grew until she resolutely stomped it down. Marriage, she ordered herself harshly, wasn't anywhere on her horizon. Not right now. It generally helped to have a steady, loving, caring boyfriend to wish for something like that. Since she didn't possess one, it was best not to think along those terms. She shook away the fanciful thoughts and cleared her throat, hoping to end the embrace before it got too embarrassing, and glanced down at the floor. Seeing her shoes poking out from under the sofa, she strode over to them and slipped into them, making as much noise as she possibly could to interrupt the kissing couple.

"Sorry, dear," Helen remarked after she broke the embrace. Serene fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her face flushed a delicious and becoming pink. She held onto her husband's hand, overlooked their passionate display in front of their daughter, and offered in an affected, throaty voice that sounded completely different from her normal one, "Umm…Bobby finished his shower a few minutes ago. I gave him his suit so he'll be finished shortly. Then we can head up to the Manor House."

Peter latched onto the subject, not wanting either of the important women in his life to start lecturing him on weddings and annoying best men anymore, and shared, "I heard Bobby wheedle the keys out of Trixie. It turns out he fell in love with the Mustang on sight. Trixie said yes so he's going to be driving us up there."

"We all love that Mustang," Helen replied, grasping onto the subject as eagerly as her husband. The color slowly receded from her face. "I've enjoyed borrowing it this week, too. It's a shame you have to return it, Trixie."

"A rental's a rental," she answered with a shrug of her shoulder, having had more than her share of rental cars over the past few years. She supposed that if she wanted to calculate the time, she would probably have spent more time driving a rental than in her actual car in California. The wonders of her job, she thought with a slight scowl.

Bobby came tripping down the stairs, his tie and his jacket in his hands, and a wide smile on his face. "Hey, I'll take that kind of a rental any day!" he joked as he joined his family at the bottom of the stairs. He hooked his free thumb towards the window where his beat-up old light blue hatchback sat. "It sure beats my old Sentra."

Trixie rolled her eyes and watched her brother slip into his jacket with an unconcerned air. "Get a move on, there, brother dear. Honey will have your head if we're late," she advised him sweetly, wishing that Mart was there to help her poke a little fun at their youngest brother.

"She wouldn't settle for only my head if we're late. The way I see it there are four of us altogether. We've got a quartet going on here," he remarked cheerfully, unperturbed by the thought of facing an unhappy Honey. "It seems to me she wouldn't be content settling for one, not when there are three more tardy people."

"Ah, but you're the one who's kept us waiting," she shot back, unwilling to let him off the hook. "I'll be glad to point to Honey and Brian that Dad, Moms and myself were ready eons before you. Besides," she added with a sly look to her eyes, "you don't want to be late. Won't the entire Lynch family be there, too?"

It was Bobby's turn to flush. Glancing down, he concentrated on tying his tie and hoped that he hadn't been too generous with the cologne. That was all he needed his sister to notice. "Yeah," he mumbled lowly. "They were invited, too. Mr. and Mrs. Lynch are the guest readers during the ceremony."

"That means we'll see Larry and Terry and Brittney and Whitney," Trixie sang out, her blue eyes dancing when Bobby's flush darkened. He and Whitney had been an item for quite some time, much to Larry and Terry's combined chagrin. They had a hard time watching their best friend start dating one of their sisters and were known to affectionately call the couple 'Bob-Whit'. The couple was inseparable when they were home together, causing many to speculate that there would be another marital connection between the Lynches and the Beldens at some point in the future.

"Trixie," Bobby began warningly, not wanting to start the evening with a round of good-natured, if unwanted, sibling teasing. There were times when being the youngest sibling was the worst thing in the world. This was one of those times. He glanced around the room, grateful that Mart and Brian weren't there. Mart would join in the teasing in a heartbeat. Brian...well, he was more of a dark horse. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't.

Laughter spilled out of her. Going easy on her brother, she picked up her overnight bag, found the keys and handed them over to her younger brother. "Don't wreck the car," she ordered him and sailed through the door, letting the screen door slam shut behind her. Bobby followed after her, grumbling about incorrigible sisters the entire way. He intentionally made the screen door close even louder behind him, making both of their parents jump with the force of it, and a sleeping Reddy in the corner lift his head before falling back to sleep.

Once her nerves settled back down, Helen breathed in deeply. "It's always nice to hear our children bicker, isn't it?" she remarked quietly to Peter, watching the two walk towards the car. "I never thought I'd say this because it used to drive me absolutely crazy but I miss it. I really do."

"It's what they do best, especially the blonde ones," he answered and motioned for her to go first. "Trixie's right, though. We need to get going if we want to make it there on time. Honey may not demand anyone's head as a payment but she would be hurt if we weren't there when we're supposed to be."

"I know. You're right." Helen reached down for her small purse and put a restraining hand on his arm. "Trixie's right about something else, too. It's the same thing that would hurt Honey even more than the Belden family being late to the rehearsal." She paused, took a deep, fortifying breath of air, and murmured, "You know what I'm talking about, Peter."

"Helen," he began pleadingly, damning the fact that he wasn't out of the woods yet like he thought he had been. Being lectured by his daughter was bad enough. He didn't want to add another one by his wife. Helen had the power to make it much worse and extremely unpleasant for him.

She held up a hand, stopping his flow of heated denial. "I'm not saying that you have to sit down and converse with Jim about the mysteries of life or act like he is your best buddy in the entire world. All I'm saying is that you need to stop looking at him as if you would like to have an ax or a blunt object in your hand when you're in the same vicinity. That's it." She stared at him intently, her gaze piercing and unyielding. "You have to be polite to him, Peter. He is the brother of your future daughter-in-law. That means you can't give him any murderous looks or grumble unintelligible things under your breath. You have to be nice. Do you think you can handle that?"

Putting his hands on his hips, he studied the ceiling, idly noticing an old oval-shaped water stain, and frowned at his wife's arguments. Damn it all, they were strong, well-thought out, and true. It took all his will power to admit it. This was one time when he wanted to dwell in his own pettiness but he couldn't. Helen had cut off the supply with a cunning twist of her words. "I get it," he answered tersely, his words short and snappish.

"That's not what I asked," she rebuked him with a sharp-eyed glare, not letting him get away with anything until he had promised to be civil to Jim. In the same tone she had once used to control four very rambunctious toddlers, she said, "Peter."

One word, one word only, and he was lost. "Damn," he grumbled, intentionally murmuring discontentedly and grumpily under his breath because that was one of the stipulations she did not want him to do anymore. It made her smile. Without saying the words, he added, "I guess I can't fantasize about Mr. Frayne and my steak knife, can I?"

"Not for the next twenty-four hours," his wife replied cheerfully, knowing that she had won the battle. He would rather choke before admitting it so she let it go and tucked her hand through his elbow. Smiling triumphantly, she led him towards the door. "It's a good thing, Peter. Honey and Brian won't feel any tension at their wedding. Madeleine and Matthew won't get angry at you. Your agreement really goes a long way towards furthering our family's relationship with Honey's parents. I highly doubt if they would like to see their son maimed right before their eyes, especially by the father of the groom."

A burst of laugher burst out, exactly as she had intended. "As long as Trixie is fine, I'll be on my best behavior," he promised, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It astounded him to actually mean the promise. He was going to do his best to leave one James Winthrop Frayne II alone. Wanting to put thoughts of the man behind him with a vengeance, he opened the front door and motioned for her to leave. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that Trixie and Bobby were at the car, putting her overnight bag in the trunk. "Let's go, Helen. Brian's waiting for us."

As always, special thanks to the lovely ladies (my sister, Pam and Joyce) who help me out! Thank you very much!


	20. Chapter 20

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty

Since his parents were passengers, Bobby drove with extra care along the short expanse of Glen Road that separated Crabapple Farm and the Manor House. Trixie didn't comment on it. Eager to get to the rehearsal, she opened her door the second he pulled the car to a stop in the driveway. Shading her eyes against the late afternoon sun, Trixie made a quick ID of all the vehicles. She skipped over the other vehicles and focused only on the Bob-White ones. A black truck, a purple sedan, a car the color of champagne, Brian's tried and true gray SUV that had taken the place of his beloved jalopy years earlier, and Jim's car. "Everyone's here!" she sang out to her parents, a bundle of raw energy. "We're the last ones." She started forward, stopped short, and pivoted on her heels, remembering her overnight bag for the sleepover after the dinner, and started back to the car.

"Don't worry, Trixie," Peter said, reading her mind. He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her back around and gently gave her a push forward. "Scoot. I'll take care of your bag for you. I'll bring it inside the house."

Trixie gifted him with a grateful smile over her shoulder and was off like a shot. She bypassed entering the house and went around it, her destination the beautiful garden where Honey had told everyone to gather for the rehearsal. The second she turned the corner, the view brought her to a halt. Gasping with delight, she took it all in. An extremely large white tent had been set up, to offer protection from the sun or any possible inclement weather during the ceremony. Rows upon rows upon rows of white padded folding chairs were placed neatly, looking like little soldiers at the ready. Not one chair was out of line or place. All were perfectly placed. White and golden bows were strung through both sides of the aisle, leading the way to the altar. A creamy white runner had been placed on the ground, beginning at the stone patio and continuing down to the altar where the minister and Matthew Wheeler were standing. Big pots and little pots of flowers of all shapes and colors were placed strategically throughout the area. The floral scent floated through the air, lovely and tantalizing. It was an absolutely breathtaking sight.

The clamor of excited voices broke through her fascination with the set-up. It drew her attention. She glanced over at the gathered group and started forward to join them. Dressed in a lovely shade of dusty rose that suited her aristocratic features beautifully, Honey stood on the stone patio, having what appeared to be an intense discussion with Miss Trask and her mother. They were probably going over any of the last minute details, Trixie thought correctly, glad that she didn't have to participate in that. Honey's hand was held within Brian's larger one. He accepted a note from Honey which Trixie figured must have important information for the male side of the wedding party. Dan was next. He was with a cute little brunette named Maya, one of Honey's friends from college, and a bridesmaid she had met that morning during their trip to the spa. She was laughing at something Dan said, clearly enjoying the attention from him. Trixie smothered a laugh and found another small cluster of people. Mart's arm was draped around Di's shoulder. They were talking with Tom and Celia. Little Leah Delanoy, the flower girl, and her younger brother, Caleb, were dancing around the two couples, excited for the big show to finally begin. Both had served as flower girl and ring-bearer for Di and Mart's wedding and were used to the process now. That only left…Jim. Wondering where he was, she turned her head to the side and saw him. All expression dropped from her face and her heart skipped a painful beat.

He was keeping the other non-Bob-White bridesmaid company. Courtney, she recalled from their time together at the spa. Very nice, very sweet, and very, very pretty. Lines formed on her forehead. She wasn't certain if she liked what she saw or not. All right, she reluctantly admitted to herself, forcing her lips to curve up and not settle into an unpleasant frown. She didn't like it. Not one little bit. The woman had to be a blonde, of course, with long wavy hair and pretty aquamarine eyes. A light, tinkling laugh floated back to her from her. The sound gave her sudden flair of jealousy fangs that she did not want to experience in the least but was powerless to stop. Glued to her spot, it took Trixie a full minute to remember that others were present. Aware that she had been staring at them, and quite rudely, she turned away from the sight towards the others, pinned that same smile on her face, and prayed no one had noticed her display of jealousy.

"Oh, Trixie! You're here!" Honey sang out gleefully, completely unaware of the fact that Trixie was bothered by Jim's attention to the other woman. Without a moment's regret, she left her wedding planner and her mother to figure out any remaining possible flaws and flew to her friend on feet that barely touched the ground. She tossed her arms around Trixie and embraced her tightly. The rehearsal meant that the big day was only one step away. She could hardly wait. "We've been waiting for you."

"I know. I got stuck waiting on that one," Trixie replied, jerking her thumb towards her youngest brother who smiled unrepentantly and tossed his head at her. "As you can see by his nearly dry hair, he just got out of the shower."

Bobby was enthusiastically greeted by both Brian and Mart, as well as the rest of the Bob-Whites. After disentangling herself from Honey's arms, Trixie kept to the edge of their rather large crowd, maintaining a good ten feet between her and Jim because she wasn't certain if she could pull off respectful and polite at that particular moment, and wisely didn't look towards him or Courtney again.

Offering a farewell towards the dark-haired Maya with a promise to dance later, Dan moseyed his way over towards her. Always one with a keen eye, he had noticed to the exact moment when she had entered the garden. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had brought her to a complete and total stop. If he didn't think she'd growl at him or inflict serious harm, he would have attempted to drag it out of her. Since they were preparing for a joyful event, he decided not to prolong any possible agony. "That's one of the other bridesmaids," he began without preamble, inclining his head towards Courtney.

Trixie arched an eyebrow, astounded that he was bringing it up. "I know who she is, Dan. I spent a good portion of the day with her and the other bridesmaid today. Honey took all of us to the spa today." She held up her fingernails to illustrate her point. "See?"

"Nice," Dan noted dryly, overlooking the shiny nails. Leaning closer, he murmured, "Since you spent so much time with her today, did you happen to notice the diamond ring on her finger?"

Trixie's mouth fell. He helpfully placed a finger under her chin and closed it for her. "I…well…damn," she muttered, embarrassed by the resurrection of her jealousy and that Dan had witnessed it. She glanced guiltily around. No one else seemed to be giving her amused or sympathetic looks. Closing her eyes, she let out a small, relieved breath. Amazingly, she was in the clear. No one but Dan had noticed. It was a good thing, too, since her defense was extremely weak. There was just something about Jim and blondes that didn't sit well with her. At all. "Was I that obvious?"

"Only to me," he remarked cheerfully, offering her a reassuring wink. "Don't worry. No one else noticed."

"That's something, then," she muttered, fighting the urge to toe the ground, and bit her bottom lip, unconsciously chewing off her lip gloss.

Dan's grin grew. He didn't let it go, expounded on the subject with an exuberance that she found grating. "I kind of lost interest in her after I noticed the engagement ring on her hand. I think she's engaged to someone she met at grad school or maybe some other place. I didn't listen to all the particulars once I found that out." He leaned in and shared in a low stage whisper, hooking a thumb towards the pretty brunette, "That's why I was talking with the available bridesmaid."

Trixie squeezed her eyes shut. The information Dan was sharing with her was coming back to her, mocking her because she should have known it. She simply hadn't paid much attention to it during the spa trip, preferring to tune it out the second she had heard the word engagement. She couldn't help but damn the feeling of relief almost as much as she had her recent and rather stupid bout of jealousy. Why the hell the sight of Jim standing and talking innocently, for crying out loud, with another woman, should have bothered her so much she didn't want to acknowledge. She really didn't, she ordered herself smartly, and forced her feet to move towards the circle of the others, with Dan helpfully propelling her forward with a hand at her back. Thanks to Dan's information, her smile was no longer fake. It was completely normal.

"Bobby, you're just in time," Mart declared dramatically, pulling his younger brother closer to him, and pointed at the groom. "I know I can count on you. I've been trying to convince our eldest over there that we need to liven this shindig up. What do you say? Are you with me?"

Livening up the rehearsal sounded like a great idea. Copying a move he had witnessed his sister do a million times, Bobby cocked his head to the side and pondered the possibilities. "What do you mean?" he wondered, intrigued by the suggestion.

Brian blew out an aggrieved breath, having put up with Mart's suggestion for the past fifteen minutes, and aimed a serious frown in his direction. "Mart, listen up. I'm telling you for the last time. There is no way any of us are dancing down the aisle. I don't care what kind of tone it will set for the wedding. It's not happening." He flicked a finger against his brother's forehead. "You can get that notion out of your head right now."

Amusement danced its way across her face. For Brian's sake, she successfully smothered a giggle. "I can't believe Mart suggested that," Trixie mumbled to herself, wrapping her arms around her body to keep the laughter from trilling up and out.

"He's been trying to get Brian to agree to it since he got here," Jim whispered quietly from behind. "Having the day off yesterday without anyone around wasn't the best option for Mart. It seems he spent a good portion of it watching videos on the 'net and was inspired. Di mentioned that he regaled her with his idea yesterday at lunch. He's already choreographed our moves for us." His lips twitched with suppressed mirth.

Trixie glanced up into his amused emerald eyes. One quick look around showed her that the blonde-haired Courtney had not joined Jim. Instead, she was standing off with Maya, having their own private conversation. That suited Trixie just fine. "There's no telling what kind of sequence Mart came up with for us," she replied humorously. She forgot about Dan, who made a comical face behind their backs and slowly disappeared into the background, letting the two have some type of privacy within the gathering of twenty-plus people. "I'm very grateful Brian said no."

"I think we all are. No one was very receptive to the idea." Jim shuddered at Mart's idea.

"I can't imagine why," Trixie murmured dryly, earning a chuckle from Jim. They shared a comfortable smile, in perfect accord with each other, and both extremely against Mart's recent brainstorm.

Two things distracted Jim from answering. The first was Trixie herself. The laughing blue eyes, the relaxed smile, and her willingness to joke with him made it practically impossible for him to formulate any type of an appropriate response. When Trixie's parents joined them, his distraction increased. Peter Belden always set him on edge; had done so ever since their encounter in the orchard when he had returned home from his summer camp. Without realizing it, he moved in closer to Trixie, almost as if he was staking a claim, which was extremely stupid and ill-thought-out on his part, since he and Trixie were only beginning to be comfortable around each other again, and nodded politely at the older couple.

Peter couldn't decide which was worse: Jim's close proximity to his daughter or the relaxed scene he had witnessed between the two of them. They both seemed to rate equally on his scale of dissatisfaction. His eyes went thin, as did his lips. It took a sharp jab to his stomach from his wife to make him remember that he promised her to be civil. "Jim," he said, using the curt, one word as his only form of greeting. Feeling like he fulfilled his promise, he turned to Trixie and proceeded to ignore the younger man without the least bit of regret. "I left your bag in the hallway, Trixie, right next to a bright purple one that I assume must belong to Diana."

"Thanks, Daddy." Not fooled for a minute, she stood up on her tiptoes to give him a hug and also to surreptitiously whisper in his ear, "Remember. Brian and Honey."

His face became etched into lines of dismay. He got the picture. It was crystal clear. With both of the important women in his life successfully ganging up on him, there wasn't much else he could do but give in. Still, he couldn't actually bring himself to actually say that name again. Looking at Jim, he inquired, his tone as civilized as he could make it, "Where do they need us?"

It took Jim a second to respond, too astonished to have Peter Belden actually talking to him. He gestured towards his father, who was standing at the far end with the minister. Knowing that his answer would be better kept short and sweet instead of long and lengthy, he shared what was possibly the longest sentence he had given to Trixie's dad in years, "Up at the front."

Trixie watched her parents walk away, impressed when her father didn't take the chance to look back and glare at Jim. Instead, he appeared to be calm with the knowledge that he was leaving while his daughter was still standing next to Jim. "That wasn't too bad," she said, her voice tinged with incredulity.

"No, it wasn't," Jim agreed, equally puzzled by Peter's willingness to ask him a direct question.

"Moms and I want things to go smoothly," Trixie explained quickly and quietly, for Jim's ears only. "We had a talk with him before we left the house. I don't think he's going to look at you like he wants to kill you or anything."

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I've become rather used to those murderous glares of his," Jim remarked sarcastically, earning a startled chuckle from her, and bringing a few pairs of interested eyes their way.

Having finished a quick whispered pow-wow with her mother and Miss Trask, Honey glanced down at her slim watch, gasped at the time, and grabbed Di's and Trixie's hands. She inclined her head towards Courtney and Maya, not wanting to exclude her other bridesmaids, and proclaimed loudly, "It's time, everyone! Us girls need to head inside. We'll see you out here when the show starts in a few minutes!" Without a backward glance she tugged the two after her and into the house, with Courtney, Maya, Celia and her two children trailing behind them.

Trixie refused to glance back, absolutely positively refused to. And, yet, even with her steely resolve and the insistent voice telling her not to do it, she couldn't find the strength to resist. Hating her weakness, she stopped, one hand on the wooden trim of the French door, and threw back what she hoped was a casual glance. All of the men were gathered around Brian, who was staring down at a white index card Honey had pressed into his hand before pulling the girls away, and were apparently listening to him as he tried to give them directions. Surprising her, Mart was even looking serious and listening intently to their directions. Only one of his groomsmen wasn't being that diligent. A pair of green met hers for the briefest span of time, catching her in the act of staring at them. Trixie pasted what she hoped passed for a carefree grin, told herself that the newest flush to her cheeks was caused by her hastily applied make-up from an hour before, and slid through the door, the last woman to make it into the living room.

"This is how it's going to go down," Honey was saying, standing with the other women and beaming at them with waves of joy radiating off of her. "Courtney's partnered up with Bobby. Maya will be Dan's partner. Of course, Di gets to be paired up with her husband. And Trixie is with Jim," she finished, her words tripping over themselves in her hurry to get them out. Honey took a deep breath and continued to explain at a breakneck speed that was impressive to witness, "When the musicians…or, in tonight's case, when Tom turns on the music, we'll start down the aisle. Courtney goes first. Then comes Maya followed by Di. Last will be Trixie. Our pretty flower girl and our handsome ring bearer will come after Trix. I'll be behind them, of course, with my father."

"Slow steps," Miss Trask called out briskly from the doorway. She had a clipboard in her hand, smart, sensible shoes on her feet, and wore her normal tweed suit. In all, she looked the epitome of efficiency. "Each of you should take a deliberate slow walk. Listen to the music and match the rhythm. When the first bridesmaid makes it to the center of the aisle, then the next one goes. It's very simple. All you have to do is walk slowly and carefully down the aisle, smiling the entire way. The photographers will be taking pictures from all different angles, too. They want to see smiles."

Trixie couldn't help but notice that Miss Trask stared directly at her during her orders for the wedding march. Amused, she acknowledged the directions with a tiny, self-deprecating smile. Out of all of the gathered women there, she was the one most likely to speed up the walk…or maybe trip over her own two feet. It was an occurrence that had happened more than once in her past. Ironically enough, they were the same orders she had been given at Di's rehearsal and Miss Trask had focused mainly on her then. It made her smile blossom more. Sometimes it was tough to overcome past precedent.

"When you get to the end of the aisle, you'll turn to the left, walk to your spots, and face the audience. It'll help build up the anticipation for when Honey starts her grand entrance." Miss Trask went on to explain the next part of the ceremony; the different expectations and roles that the bridesmaids had, how they would sit in the first row once the minister invited everyone to find their seats with only the best man and the maid of honor staying up front with the bride and the groom. She shared that after the recessional, they would proceed to the stone pathway where they would make the receiving line. Each bridesmaid would stand matched up with their partner from the wedding and greet each guest as they went past while Celia, Whitney and Brittney would hurriedly pass out the prettily wrapped birdseed packages to the guests to toss at the bride and groom.

The receiving line stuck in her mind. Trixie had only participated in two before…one for Juliana's wedding and the other for Di's…and had dreaded the moment then as much as she did know. There was nothing quite like feeling put on display for everyone to see. Like Juliana's, she would have Jim at her side, sharing in the moment. Her eyes brightened at the thought. It suddenly didn't sound quite as bad as she thought it would be.

"That's all we need to practice today. It's all very simple," Miss Trask concluded, giving the gathered females a reassuring smile. "Take your time. Enjoy it. Afterwards, we'll move over to the country club for the rehearsal dinner and can relax."

Honey's smile nearly split her face; it was so bright and brilliant. She closed her eyes, imagining the magical moment that was so close to being upon them, and had to bite her bottom lip to keep from squealing like a little girl. It was everything she had thought it would be and more, much more. She was marrying Brian Belden. Did it get any better than that? "It sounds wonderful, Miss Trask. When can we get started?" She stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck towards the patio.

"The men should be in their places. We have Tom in charge of the sound system since he possesses more electronic knowledge than Regan. All we're waiting on is your father. He's still talking with the minister." Miss Trask moved towards the door. "I'll leave the door open. Remember you are first, Courtney. The rest of the bridesmaids will follow in the order I gave you. Celia, Leah and Caleb will come last." Like a general who expected all of her orders to be executed perfectly and with precision, Miss Trask gave one brisk nod and sailed through the door.

"Wait a minute!" Di called out. She hurriedly left the room, moving as fast as her heels would allow, and was back in a heartbeat, holding a creation of ribbons, curls, and wrapping paper in her hands that was beyond frivolous, feminine, and frilly. "Someone needs their bouquet!" she exclaimed and triumphantly handed it over to Honey.

"Ohh," was drawn out of Honey. She took the overly fussy, handmade bouquet with the utmost of care, as if it was a priceless work of art instead of a white paper plate decorated with leftover wrappings and trappings from her bridal shower. "I'd forgotten about this."

"What is it?" Trixie reached out and picked up a strand of pink curling ribbon that dangled a good five feet to the ground. She lifted both eyebrows.

"It's from the bridal shower," Di informed her happily. "I made it for Honey from the ribbons, bows and wrapping paper. It's tradition." She fingered a ribbon and added, "In fact, I seem to remember someone here managed to break three ribbons during the unwrapping process. You know what that means, don't you?"

Trixie didn't. She looked around in confusion when the other ladies started giggling and prayed that she never had to carry something that excessively feminine. She noticed a decidedly dreamy gleam enter Honey's soft hazel eyes. "It's certainly something," Trixie remarked when both of her friends looked at her expectantly.

"You're right. It certainly is." Honey held it at her waist and gasped. Her dress billowed around her legs when she twirled around in excitement. "Oh, oh! The music! Everyone! It's starting! We've got to get going." She waved to her father when he came into the room.

Quickly, the women fell into line. No one wanted to risk displeasing Miss Trask. Courtney went down first, moving as slowly and serenely as she had been ordered to do. Trixie watched from the sidelines, waiting her turn, and felt the familiar anticipation begin to build. Next went Maya. "If Mart were here he would tell me not to trip," she whispered to Honey, needing to bring some levity to the moment.

"You're not going to trip," Honey whispered back, hardly daring to believe that it was finally time. Di strolled out into the daylight, a vision in her lovely lavender dress, and started her leisurely walk. Honey let go of her father's hand and murmured, "Thanks for everything. I love you, Trix."

"Right back at you." Blinking away a set of sentimental tears, Trixie embraced Honey and moved quickly to the patio. When Di closed in on the half-way point, she turned back and winked at her best friend. "I'll see you at the finish line," she said and then began her meander down the aisle. _Slow_ kept running through her mind. With a relaxed smile on her face, she joined the walk of pretty women and reached the beginning of the aisle. All of the family and guests who had been invited to the rehearsal were in their assigned rows, standing up and staring down the aisle while the cheerful and lilting music poured out from the portable stereo. Hating having everyone's eyes on her, even if it was only for a short moment, Trixie felt the familiar flush paint its way across her face. She had a vague memory of her walk down the aisle for Juliana's and Di's weddings but resolutely pushed them away, concentrating on one thing. She was not going to trip. As instructed, she kept her steps light, her smile wide, and concentrated on putting one low-heeled shoe in front of the other.

From his assigned spot next to the groom, Jim watched her come down the aisle, on her way towards him…well, he corrected himself firmly, not to him. To the group. It had been difficult not to look at her during Mart and Di's wedding, a constant fight that he had been strong enough to win because the old wounds had laid festering between them. Everything was different. Now. They were changing, as they had discussed yesterday. Because of it, he found it much easier to do that simple action now, to stare and let his lips curve and not feel self-conscious for studying the way she moved or for memorizing the way she looked. She wore a dress that was more simple than elaborate, her normal taste, and in direct contrast to the gown she was going to be wearing tomorrow. To put it plainly, she took his breath away. All right, he admitted with a trace of inner sarcasm, she managed to do that when wearing a pair of faded jeans and a sweatshirt, like yesterday, with the wind playing havoc with her hair. Obviously, he wasn't very picky when it came to her. When she reached her place he nodded once at her, watched her smile bloom a little brighter, and then she was gone from sight, positioning herself well on the other side of Brian. Unless he wanted to crane his neck around the groom, he had to look forward, not desiring to call anymore undue attention to them. He couldn't help but grin when the flower girl and ring-bearer walked together, her pony tail swinging a mile a minute and a large grin showcasing two missing front teeth on his face, with their mother anxiously watching from the sidelines. They weren't running but their pace wasn't as sedate or controlled as any of the bridesmaids. It only made the pair cuter and more unforgettable.

Then the music changed. Honey appeared at the end, on her father's arm. Many people thought that they could power the entire state of New York for the next year simply from the force of Honey's smile. It stretched from ear to ear, was one of the most magnificent ones that anyone had seen grace her face, and made her already pretty features blossom and grow into something beyond beautiful. When her father handed her over to almost husband, the look on Honey's face was one of pure and complete joy, a perfect match to the awestruck expression on Brian's.

The minister's booming voice broke the sentimental mood, as well as Honey and Brian's absorption with each other. He called the place to order, started the process by reviewing the expectations and actions required during the wedding ceremony, and put the entire wedding party through their paces under the watchful eyes of the many guests. Honey and Brian seemed unaware to it all, had only eyes and ears for each other, and sometimes had to be prodded by Trixie or Jim for their responses, much to the merry chuckles from the enthralled audience. The minister thought that it was one of the happiest rehearsals he had been lucky enough to preside over. This couple would make it, of that he had no doubt. He couldn't always make the same prediction for some of the other weddings he had conducted.

Under the minister's careful lead and Miss Trask's extremely watchful eye, the rehearsal ran like clockwork. It was completed and over before anyone knew it. When Tom turned on the recessional, an ecstatic Honey and Brian led the way back down the aisle to claps and cheers from everyone. Each Bob-White let out a very sentimental and happy whistle, in perfect sync. Eyes sparkling, Trixie joined Jim at the front of the aisle. "It's going to be beautiful," she murmured, accepting his arm with a smile and starting the walk down the aisle with him at her side. She missed the slight scowl on her father's face that only disappeared when her mother thoughtfully stepped on his foot with her heel.

He kept the pace slow and even, the exact way the men had been instructed, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was smiling, she was happy, and she was talking to him. There wasn't a trace of any stiffness or uncomfortableness about her, exactly what he wanted. The truce, as Dan had mentioned the other day, was turning out to be a stroke of brilliance on his part. "I couldn't agree with you more," he replied, aiming a crooked grin down at her. He didn't notice the knowing glances his parents shared or the thoughtful nod Regan sent in their direction. Feeling more carefree than he had in a long time, he led her to the receiving line that Honey and Brian had started.

Mart and Di joined them a few seconds later, having completed their leisurely stroll. "I still think it would have been more fun if Brian let us dance down the aisle," Mart grouched under his breath, not because he really wanted to do that but merely to get a reaction out of someone.

Everyone in line obliged him, even sweet, tactful Honey. "Shut up, Mart," came from many different voices.

Mart pasted a long-suffering look on his face and turned to his wife, certain that she would stick up for him. "You would have let us do that for our wedding, right, Di?" he asked her, scowling at the others.

"Of course, Mart," Di lied without a qualm since their wedding day was well and truly over and there wasn't any way to go back to it. She wasn't about to admit to him that would never have been an option for her and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek to make up for her lie. "You never asked."

The chattering stopped when the rest of the wedding party joined the receiving line. The rehearsal guests came next. They started filling out from the garden and took the time to greet each member of the wedding party. Once the guests went through, the line quickly broke up into small clusters. Matthew Wheeler wasted no time in taking his little girl in his arms and giving her a long, fatherly hug.

"You were wonderful, dear," Helen murmured to Trixie, having inner knowledge of how her daughter's mind worked and how nervous she always was when she was put on display. "It'll be even better tomorrow."

"Thanks, Moms." Since weddings, embraces, and happy tears went hand-in-hand, she threw her arms around her mother and tried not to let a single one spill. "I have to borrow a saying from my almost-sister-in-law. It's going to be perfectly perfect, isn't it?"

Helen nodded. She laid her head on top of Trixie's and whispered for Trixie's ears only, "I'm proud of your father, too. He kept it reigned in…well, most of the time. He'll do better at the dinner. I'll see to it."

She didn't need to clarify any further. Trixie glanced over to where her father was congratulating Honey and Brian on a job well done. To her amazement he even managed a smile and a nod to Jim, who was talking to his father. "Good for him. It's worth it, Moms."

Helen's eyes lit up with delight at her daughter's choice of words. She kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to put Trixie on the spot, especially since so many other people were milling about. It wasn't merely just 'worth it'. She, as well as many others, had seen the look Jim and Trixie had given each other when they had met at the altar. Her hopes for a reconciliation for the couple were at the highest they had ever been. She couldn't wait to discuss it with Madeleine and see how she felt about it.

Mart rubbed his stomach. "It's about time to get this show on the road, don't you think?" he asked to no one in particular.

"I can hear that stomach all the way over here," Trixie answered, trying not to laugh at the predictability of her brother, and shared an eye roll with her mother.

Bobby reached over and, from the safety of his height over her, tousled her curls. "I still get to drive your car, right?" he wanted to know, giving Whitney a curious glance. When Trixie nodded her head, he added quietly, "Thanks, Trix. You're going to need to find a new one. I'm giving your spot to Whitney."

Trixie had already come to that conclusion. "No problem, Bobby. I'm sure someone here will bring me over." Trixie ended up floating towards the background and leaned against a low stone wall. With her trained eye, she observed the happenings going on around her. Everyone was so damned happy. There wasn't one person in attendance who wasn't. It made her smile. She couldn't think of two people who deserved it more than Honey and Brian.

Jim turned away from his father and sent a quick glance over the group. He tried to tell himself that he was merely cataloguing all of the players for the event but it was wrong. Of course, he was really searching for Trixie. Since he seemed to have an inborn sensor that was perpetually set on her settings, whether he wanted to possess it or not, and there were times when he definitely did not want to own it, he found her immediately, on the outskirts and watching the large group. As unobtrusively as possible, he started a trek towards her, keeping to the outskirts of the group until he was closing in on her. Unfortunately for him, Dan and Regan beat him to her. He tilted his chin up in acknowledgement to the two and stuck his hands into his pockets. "Everyone's getting ready to head out to the country club," he remarked to the small cluster of people.

"You're right." Trixie nodded her head and pointed towards Bobby. He had an arm draped around Whitney's shoulder and was leading her around the side of the house, towards the parking lot and her car. "I've lost my ride, I'm afraid. That little sneak over there has confiscated my car."

"Ahh. He wants to impress the pretty Whitney with the magnificence of the Mustang," Dan replied knowingly, watching the youngest Belden steer his girlfriend away from the group.

"Now you're sounding like Mart," Trixie countered, poking him in the ribs. "But you're right. I couldn't hear what he was saying to my parents a few minutes ago but I have a feeling he ditched them, too." She nodded once more when she saw her mother approach Mart and Di. "Looks like they'll be traveling to the country club with them."

More to get back at Jim for his lack of response yesterday after his ride with Trixie than for anything else, Dan nodded his head sagely. "Me and Uncle Bill are traveling over together, Trix. You can come with us, too," he offered, ignoring the way Jim stiffened by his side, and stifled a chuckle. At least he was getting some kind of reaction out of him now. There was nothing quite like that feeling when he beat one of his friends to the punch.

She turned a grateful smile on him, having no clue that Jim had been about to make the same offer to her. "Thanks, Dan. I'll take you up on it. I have to admit that I didn't really want to ride with Honey and Brian. They need some privacy." She averted her glance when Brian and Honey shared a kiss and barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them. Public displays of affection were never her strong suit.

Jim turned his back on his sister, unwilling to watch anyone paw at her, even if that person was his best friend and her fiancé. "Tell me about it," he mumbled under his breath, earning a surprised giggle out of her.

"Tom's calling me over for something," Regan said, frowning at his friend. "I bet he needs my help with the stereo and its equipment. I'll meet you at your truck, Dan. See you there, Trixie." He sent a careless wave towards the others and ambled his way over toward Tom, who indicated that Regan was right. He needed assistance carrying the stereo system and its speakers back inside the house.

Dan placed an arm at Trixie's waist, had the pleasure of seeing Jim's eyes flare up with something sharp and displeased, and nudged her forward. "Let's go, Trix. It looks like everyone is heading over to the reception. If we're late, Mart's liable to have eaten all the food."

The thought made her laugh. "Very true. We all know my brother, the bottomless pit. Thanks for the ride, Dan. I have a strong suspicion that Bobby is going to try and trade cars with me this weekend. We'll see you in a few minutes, Jim," she called out before obediently following along besides Dan.

Jim had two options. He could fall into step with them, which didn't appeal to him in the least since Dan knew how he was feeling and would most likely make a comment or do something merely to annoy him, or he could hang back for a few minutes to gather his bearings. Since the second option helped him save face, as well as control his frustration, he chose to wait and wandered back down the aisle. Rows upon rows of neat, padded folding chairs stared back at him. He wandered up to the altar, fingered a set of flowers that had been strategically arranged to twine their way around a wooden post, and took a deep breath.

Matthew cheerfully whistled his way back onto the scene, tucking his checkbook into his back pocket after handing over a generous payment to the minister. "Hello there, Jim," he called out. "I've been deserted. Turns out your mother would rather ride with Miss Trask instead of me. They were the first ones to leave the house. I think they wanted to make sure that the country club hadn't fallen apart or anything."

Uncertain if he wanted company or not, Jim reluctantly joined his father. "Miss Trask did a wonderful job of pulling all this together."

"Yeah. Honey's happy. Your mother's even happier." Matthew shook his head, thinking about all the missed time that existed between him and his daughter. There were times when her early years really got to him, like right now. He found it hard to believe that he had missed out on so much of Honey's life before they had moved to Sleepyside. There was certainly something magical about the small, sleepy town, of that he firmly believed. "You know, I would give anything to go back in time and enjoy her childhood more than I did. I wish I hadn't spent so much of it working."

Jim made a non-committal sound, understanding more than his father knew but for a much different reason. Lost time wasn't something one could ever get back. His lost time didn't reside with a daughter. It resided with an irrepressible, exasperating, and intoxicatingly wonderful blonde who was firmly under his skin, no matter how hard he had tried to extract her. They had spent so much of that lost time apart. Clearing his throat, he pushed those thoughts to the side for further contemplation and gestured towards the parking lot. "Let's get going, Dad. I'll be glad to drive us over." They were the last two to leave the area. They reached his car just in time to see a black truck back up and join the line of departing vehicles driving down his driveway. Jim watched the truck leave, saw the blonde head he had been pondering in the extended cab of the truck, and narrowed his eyes. He missed the way his father grinned at his not-so-hidden fixation.

"Ready to go, son?" Matthew remarked after a long moment. There wasn't a need to inquire about the reasoning behind Jim's sudden stillness. "Your mother won't be pleased if the father of the bride and the best man are late to the rehearsal dinner."

His father's voice brought him back to reality. An embarrassed flush started at the base of his neck and moved upwards. Jim sheepishly mumbled something even he couldn't make out and opened his car door. Jamming the keys in the ignition, he fired it up, and, with Matthew completely and competently carrying on a one-sided conversation, brought up the rear of the long line of cars moving towards the country club. Lost in his own thoughts, he had a feeling that the rehearsal dinner could be more relaxing than he had previously expected it to be, with Peter Belden acting almost affably towards him and his relationship with Trixie at the friendliest level it had been at for years. A light grin touched his lips. He was actually looking forward to it.

As always, thanks to those lovely ladies who help keep me sane! It's very much appreciated!


	21. Chapter 21

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-One

Trixie angled her way around a table, smiled at her brother and Whitney who seemed to be oblivious to all but each other, and made her way towards the well-stocked bar housed in the corner of the banquet room. She cast an appraising eye around the room, took it all in, and grinned. All the people she loved most in the world were standing, sitting or chatting comfortably with each other, having enjoyed an absolutely delicious dinner and dessert. Low hums of conversations floated on the air, punctuated with occasional bursts of laughter. Relaxing instrumental music came out of the impressive stereo system the DJ had set up near a small dance floor. She smiled into her glass of iced tea when Di and Honey burst into a round of girlish giggles. There were times out in California when the feelings of isolation settled in. This was one of those golden moments she would remember, that would help ward off the lonely and make her feel more complete and less alone.

Dan sidled up next to her and quietly uttered an order to the bartender, hooking a thumb towards Trixie to include her in it. She needed something more celebratory than boring, old iced tea, he figured with a roguish grin, judging by the maudlin set to her mouth. "Having a good time?"

Trixie jolted, surprised by his arrival. "It's a nice night," she responded after catching her breath. Sensing the group was ready for something more, the DJ cued up a livelier selection. Trixie chuckled when Honey immediately grabbed Brian. Di followed suit with her husband. Both women pulled their slightly reluctant significant others out onto the dance floor, where they begin to dip and sway to the music. The dancing couples were joined by a few others. Sighing, she concentrated on Honey and Brian and aimed her glass in their direction. "Look at them, Dan. They look so happy. Tomorrow is going to be a dream come true for them."

"The rehearsal went very well." Dan tapped her on the shoulder and murmured, "I was very proud of you and Jim. Both of you handled yourselves well." He chose not to add that he wasn't the only one to notice it or discuss it. The apparent ease existing between Jim and Trixie was in stark contrast to their behavior from the previous Bob-White wedding. It was responsible for setting a lot of minds wondering and tongues wagging about the two.

She concentrating on swirling her drink with a thin red stirrer, and admitted slowly, "It was surprisingly easy, Dan, much easier than I expected it to be. I can honestly tell you that I was dreading a good portion of this week. I remembered how hard it was to go through everything at Mart's wedding. Jim and me weren't even partnered up then." A small shake of her head sent her curls bouncing around her shoulders, followed by a self-deprecating laugh, directly entirely at herself. "This time around is much different. I never expected it to turn out this well."

"I've got to give props where it's due," he proclaimed. The bartender had left two shots by his elbow before going on to serve Tom and Regan at the other end of the bar. So far, Trixie hadn't noticed that he had ordered two. As far as he could tell she hadn't taken her eyes off of the room. It was a habit she had developed over the years. Always looking, always watching, always observing. Not much participating. With the new view he had of her, he understood the tendency much more. It wasn't simply to avoid Jim. It was now an ingrained part of her. "You did it the right way. You eased yourself into it and laid a great foundation. Tomorrow will be even better." He picked up his short, squat glass and saluted her with it. "Good for you, Trix. We're all proud of you."

Trixie stared at his drink, a lovely, disarming amber color, and tried not to get embarrassed. She never took flattery well. It wasn't easy for her to accept. "What is that stuff?" she inquired, more to distract him from their current subject than for any particular desire to know what it was.

Recognizing the tactic, he let her change the subject. With his free hand he nudged her glass forward and encouraged her to accept it with a disarming grin. "How about you trade in that sissy drink of yours for something a little stronger?" he challenged, arching a dark eyebrow, waiting to see if she would accept it.

"Sissy drink?" she repeated, bristling at his description of her regular and non-alcoholic iced tea.

"Normally a glass filled with iced tea and that has a slice of lemon floating in it with a packet or two of sugar stirred in definitely rates high on the scale as a sissy drink," he defended, leaning in a little closer so that only she could hear his words. "Come on, Trix. Try something your Aunt Alicia wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Try something a little…" He paused intently before finishing with, "stronger."

Trixie blew out a low, long-suffering breath. She knew what was coming. "You're going to dare me, aren't you?" she accused, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I intend to. Double and triple, if you need it." This time when he leaned in, he murmured for her ears only, goading her further, "You're not going to let a common DEA agent get the better of you, are you? What would the other CDA agents say? They would most certainly be disappointed in you, Hollywood." He shook his head in sham sympathy.

Blue eyes turned into fierce blue slits. She scowled at him and swore lightly under her breath, making him shout with a bout of delighted laughter. She couldn't stand being dared. By anyone, let alone him. She definitely didn't like him bringing up the name of her agency. Slender fingers grabbed the glass without a moment's regret. Not much of a drinker, she knocked it back with a quick flick of the wrist. Her wrist wasn't quite as practiced or smooth as Dan's. And the cough that followed the trailing liquor as it went down her throat was definitely as unsmooth and uncool as it could get. With shaking fingers, she wiped away the gathered tears that sparkled on her eyelashes and sneered at Dan, who couldn't contain his amusement. "Shut up," she managed to get out between light coughs.

Highly amused, Dan winked at her and reached around to give her a friendly pound on the back. Anything to help out a friend in need. "Hey, you've got to forgive me," he remarked casually. "I've got to even things up between us somehow, right? It's not my fault you have the most supercool job out of us all."

Trixie's latest cough dissolved into a choked, startled laugh. "Oh, my, Dan," she gasped, giving up and leaning back against the bar. Now that her throat didn't feel like it was on fire, she felt much better and could almost visualize the liquid traveling through her body to her extremities. Feeling calmer, she tapped him on the forehead and added, "You're priceless."

"Don't I know it." With his back to the bar, he rested both elbows on the top of the smooth, rounded edge and watched the dance floor. It was packed. Even his uncle was getting into the action, dancing with the unengaged friend of Honey's. It impressed him to see Bill Regan giving some serious attention to something else besides his horses and ended his desire to flirt with the woman. "I'm flattered to know that you recognize my worth."

Trixie pushed the shot glass behind her, well out of sight, quickly coming to the conclusion that she had reached her quota of alcohol for the evening. She went back to her first choice without a moment's regret. The iced tea helped cool off any remnants of the other liquid. "We all know how much you're worth, Mangan," she declared, her voice intentionally smooth so that he couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic or sincere.

Having heard the tail end of the conversation, Jim turned to the two after placing his order. He accepted a glass from the bartender, shot an amused glance at Trixie who was still red-faced but had stopped coughing. "Are you all right, Trixie?" he inquired, understanding what had happened. Dan had used the same ploy with him before, too. Since none of the Bob-Whites were serious drinkers, Dan took it upon himself at times to dare them into attempting something they normally wouldn't choose. In fact, he was the only one of the lot who could stand the harder stuff.

"I think he just tried to kill me," Trixie grumbled, glaring accusingly at Dan. Unconsciously, she moved closer to Jim.

Jim joined in Dan's laughter. "Yeah, he can be lethal. He dared you, right?" At Trixie's nod, he added, "Dan's tried that trick on all of us before. I haven't known any one to come out on the winning end of it before."

"Hey, what can I say? It's a gift," Dan remarked with decided good cheer, holding his hands up, palms out, before accepting his second shot. He swallowed it with a practiced ease that had Trixie rolling her eyes and pushed himself away from the bar. The thought of leaving the two of them together was extremely tempting. "I'll see you guys around." With a wink and another one of his trademark grins, he rejoined the party with an undeniable swagger, whistling the entire way.

Trixie nursed her iced tea and watched Dan work his way around the dance floor, finally stopping by Miss Trask. Any annoyance she felt for him dissipated when he asked her to dance with him. As always, her heart softened. He had the potential to be as annoying, irritating, and infuriating as her brother Mart but there was that endearing quality about him. She couldn't stay mad at him long. "I forgot about that little trick of Dan's," she remarked after a moment of silence.

"Brian, Mart and me learned to avoid him when he was in a playful mood like that." He offered her his crooked grin, didn't recognize the effect it had on her or how much it reminded her of all the good times they had shared together before their break. "It was safer all around for us."

"I can see why," she replied sarcastically, releasing one small left-over cough, and took a large sip from her sissy but safe drink. Her eyes widened degree by degree when her father took the spot that Dan had recently vacated. "Hi, Daddy," she greeted, shifting glances nervously from her father to Jim and back again. She couldn't fathom why her father had willingly put himself in the same place as them. Then she remembered their conversation earlier, before the rehearsal, and how he had accused her that she was letting Jim back in. The difficulty she experienced in catching her breath had absolutely nothing to do with her recent taste of hard alcohol.

Placing an order for drinks hadn't been his only reason for coming to the bar. He lifted an eyebrow, looked pointedly at Jim, and carefully inserted himself between the two, laughing inwardly to himself the entire time. As casually as he could, he placed an order for a glass of white wine for Helen and a regular beer for him. It was difficult but he tried hard not to look too pleased with himself for interrupting what could be termed as a private moment between the two of them. He wasn't about to let it happen. Not on his watch. "It's a good party," he noted with decided good cheer, giving a mental pat on his back. Just because he had agreed to be sort of nice to Jim didn't mean he was willing to let them be alone.

"Miss Trask did a great job with the rehearsal and dinner. I can't wait to see what the reception is like," Trixie answered, suddenly grateful for the shot of whiskey Dan had more or less pushed her into. She didn't relish the thought of having her father and Jim in the same vicinity, especially when she was there to physically witness it. Knowing it was cowardly of her, she waved towards her mother, who waved back and motioned her to come over to the other side of the room. Addressing her father and Jim, she said brightly, "Excuse me. Moms is calling me."

There was nothing quite like a rat deserting a sinking ship. Jim stared daggers at her departing back, unable to contemplate his turn of bad luck. Chatting with Peter Belden wasn't high on his list of things that he wanted to do in this lifetime. Being left alone with the man rated extremely low, residing somewhere between experiencing the joys of having a kidney stone and suffering through oral surgery…without the proper numbing medication. Wanting to grumble and grouch, he settled for a frown and grabbed his beer. The sip was long and extremely fortifying. His mind worked frantically to come up with a way to extricate himself from the situation without appearing to be intimidated by the older man. Nothing was forthcoming.

It was one of the few, recent times where the two men were in complete and harmonious accord. "Nice," Peter grumbled under his breath, annoyed with his daughter. He didn't glare at Trixie but followed her progress across the room. As she had said, she immediately sought the safety of her mother's presence. With Helen giving him quite the look of ultimate displeasure from across the room, having witnessed his successful attempt to break up the two and now hearing it firsthand from a highly amused Trixie, there was no way out for him. He couldn't leave, not without earning Helen's righteous ire. Damn it.

"Tell me about it," mumbled Jim, stuck in the same position for a different reason. No one was waiting to poke at him for running off. Nope. It was simply his own pride that was keeping him there. He had too much of it and wouldn't let others think the eldest Belden in the room had unnerved him enough to leave his post. He was stuck. Oh, hell.

Peter drew back, startled, and stared at the grim-faced redhead. At least the younger man wasn't dumb, he thought with a ghost of a grin flittering across his mouth. And it was odd to have something in common with him. He wasn't certain if he liked it or not. "It backfired on me," he admitted lowly. He would have followed it up with a chuckle had he been with anyone but Jim.

"That's what I figured." Jim picked up his glass, took another swallow, and settled back against the bar. He was stuck there, too, unless he wanted Trixie to think he was a coward. She was watching him, not with indignation or the promise of retribution should he leave like Helen was staring at her husband, but with downright amusement. Amusement! Worse, comical amusement at that. Her hands were wrapped around her body, her lips were quivering, and the blue of her eyes clearly sparkled from across the room. She was definitely enjoying his predicament. Out of the corner of his mouth he uttered, "Two minutes ought to do it."

Peter considered the suggested time, nodded his head sagely, and put an elbow on the bar. He deliberately turned his back on the two woman so that they couldn't attempt to read his lips from across the room. "Throw in a smile or two, maybe even a hearty chuckle, and it'll have to do. Helen won't lock me out of our bedroom tonight." She was quite capable of doing that, and much more, if she felt the situation warranted it. Obviously frustrated with him for breaking up Jim and Trixie's innocent meeting, she looked ready to go for his jugular the second they got home if he followed up that ill-advised action with another one.

"And Trixie won't think I'm a wimp. I can handle it if you can." Jim glanced down at his watch. "Two minutes it is, then."

If it was anyone else, Peter would have been laughing by now. As it was, trapped into conversing with Jim by his own hands, there wasn't anything he could do but stay there and wait it out. For the first time in a long time, he actually looked at the man next to him and received a bit of a shock. Not quite as young as he remembered him looking, definitely not as open, and the green eyes weren't nearly as friendly or happy, either. In fact, Peter reluctantly admitted, Jim kind of carried the same expression he saw at times on Trixie's face when she thought no one was looking at her, kind of like something from life had painted a permanent mark. He choked back a gasp at the realization, even damned himself for unintentionally making such a connection between his daughter and the person he viewed responsible for pushing her out of their home state, and stared down into his beer, having no desire to finish it off. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't overlook his sudden epiphany. It was there, forcing him to see something in Jim he didn't want to acknowledge. To put it plainly, he despised it but couldn't turn it back.

Jim arched an eyebrow, unnerved by Peter's continuing silence. Since there weren't any blunt or sharp objects within easy reach, he attempted to relax and said, a tint of humor to his voice, "I hear the weather's supposed to be good tomorrow. No rain is predicted for Honey's wedding day."

"Helen's excited about it. We aren't supposed to get any until Sunday," Peter answered, almost in astonishment that they were engaged in an actual conversation, and pushed aside his new and unnerving thoughts. Now wasn't the time to focus on them. Later, when he was home. He caught Helen out of the corner of his eyes and briefly wondered what she would say when he shared them with her. She would probably be ecstatic since she had never stopped hoping for a reconciliation between the former couple.

"Tom is driving the newlyweds to the airport on Sunday. They're departing for sunny Antigua for their trip. Lucky them," he tacked on. Although he appeared to be watching the dance floor, he was more aware of the man by his side. There was a need to be wary and on edge when Peter Belden was near.

"Hmm. Nice place for a honeymoon," Peter answered calmly. He frowned at Helen when she bent her head closer to Trixie. They were up to something, he could tell. He didn't need to hear what they were saying to know that it was about him and Jim. "Have you ever been there?"

"No." Jim shook his head. "In fact, I haven't been anywhere but here or the city for the longest of times. You know, I can't remember the last time I went on a vacation. It's been awhile." He stared off into the distance and tried to figure out his last vacation. It shocked him to know that he couldn't come up with one. The trips with the Bob-Whites were all very clear but he couldn't recall any trip past the one his parents took him on after his graduation from NYU. Had it really been that long since he had taken some time for himself?

Silence fell, lasted for a good thirty seconds. It wasn't horribly uncomfortable but Peter decided it needed to be ended. He cleared his throat and inquired, "How much longer?"

Jim shook off his preoccupation, frustrated with himself for allowing his life to fall into such a shambles. Study, school, and then work were what drove him. It rather sucked, made him feel a little pitiful and a lot pathetic. Something had to give, he decided with a small sneer aimed entirely at himself. As soon as he could arrange it, he would see about that vacation. Probably not the islands but somewhere else. He would figure it later. "Another minute should do it."

Peter turned back around and stared at Trixie and Helen. He couldn't look away. Both women were watching them with extreme and open interest, waiting to see how long they would wait it out. Incredibly, he pointed it out to Jim. It wasn't out of a desire to bond. Oh, no. This had to do with self-preservation. They were up to something. "What do you think Trixie and Helen are talking about right now?"

Jim's mouth nearly hit the floor. Peter was bringing Trixie up to him? He tapped an ear to make certain he had heard correctly. Slowly, he brought his gaze to the two laughing women and considered it. They certainly resembled two people who were plotting something of importance. His eyebrows snapped together. "Do you think they're betting on how long we're going to talk to each other?" he wondered aloud.

"I'd say you're half-right. They are definitely setting up a bet over there. Most likely they're predicting which one of us will stay here and suck it up the longest." If he knew his wife, and he most certainly did, Helen was putting her money on him, figuratively speaking, of course. "Helen's probably finished putting up the kitchen chores for Sunday, the day after the wedding. Loser gets stuck doing them." He saw Trixie reach out and accept her mother's handshake before both ladies turned killer glares their way. "Yeah. Trixie just agreed to it."

The notion of the Belden women betting on them intrigued him. Jim tapped a finger to his chin and asked a rather stupid question, "Who's taking you?"

The other employees he worked with at the bank would have been shocked to see Peter Belden roll his eyes and answer in a sarcastic tone he rarely, if ever, used, "Come on. That's got to be obvious. Helen's got me, of course." His grin grew when Helen pointed at him and nodded her head yes, as if she had heard Jim's question through the entire distance between them. "Which means…"

"Trixie's stuck with me." Jim said it with wonder, liking the way it sounded, even if she was stuck with him as a choice by default. Maybe it was only over a silly bet and Trixie didn't have another option since her father was already taken but it felt damn good to have her choose him, for whatever the reason. After setting his half-empty glass back on the bar, he crossed his ankles and attempted to look deceptively casual, a look that Dan could admittedly pull off much more competently than he could. He locked his gaze on Trixie, waited for her to notice. When she did, he tipped a finger in silent acknowledgement, communicating silently that he would do the best that he possibly could to help her win her bet. He was rewarded with the return of a bright flash of red to her cheeks.

Peter downed his drink and hooked a foot around the leg of a stool, showing the other man without words that he didn't have any desire to leave now. He was in it for the long haul. "So, are you game? Do you want to see who can stick it out the longest?" He motioned for the bartender, who was wisely keeping to the other side of the bar, and ordered another beer. "I've got to warn you, though. Helen is very competitive. She hates losing."

"I'll take you on. I seem to remember that Trixie feels the same way," Jim murmured, keeping her in his sights until she turned away.

Peter accepted his newest glass, stared down into the liquid topped with soft white foam. The others in the room seemed to have come to a unanimous decision. Each and every one of them was giving the two of them an exceptionally wide berth. Accepting their collective decision, he rapidly went through different ideas to get Jim to leave first. His lips curled upwards into a slightly sinister smile. It was really all too simple. All he had to do was mention Trixie. He began without the slightest hesitation, "I can see that you and Trixie are becoming…friendly with each other."

Jim's mouth went slack. He was the last person on earth he ever expected to discuss Trixie with. When he caught the nearly coolly calculating smirk on the older man's face, he realized what the older man was doing. Refusing to go on the defense, knowing that if he did he would most certainly lose, he answered with a level of comfort he didn't actually feel but could almost successfully imitate, "We came to an agreement."

"Ah," Peter said knowingly, bobbing his head up and down. He steepled his fingers together under his chin. "Right. The famous truce. I seem to have heard a lot about it recently. Tell me your take on it, Jim. It's a fascinating topic and I'd enjoy hearing more about it," he invited, a gleam to his eyes and a cutting edge to his smile.

Damn. The man was quite an adversary. It was always the quiet ones. Jim forced his legs to lock, absolutely refused to shuffle his feet. "It was my idea," he explained haltingly, hating the fact that he could feel a flush starting to crawl up his neck. "For the wedding."

"I understand the need for it. Trixie shared it with me before we left for the rehearsal. You wanted to make things easier for Honey and Brian." Peter could almost feel the taste of victory. It was sweet, saccharine sweet, and was almost within his reach. Jim was trying to act unconcerned and unbothered but he wasn't succeeding. He decided to press his advantage. "Very nice and considerate of you. You'll have to tell me more, though. Has it been successful?"

Jim's collar started to feel tight around his throat. Because he wanted to loosen his tie, his long fingers curled around his glass. He stayed his ground, unwilling to leave. "I think so," he bit out more sharply than he intended.

Peter smoothed away a worried frown, wondering why Jim hadn't turned tail and raced away from him yet. He obviously was a more formidable opponent than he had anticipated. Or maybe he hadn't asked the right questions yet. Coming to that conclusion, he contemplated a set of possible questions. The one that stuck out the most left more than a hint of distaste in his mouth. Wishing he had something stronger than mere beer, he gripped the glass and inquired as casually as he could muster, "What's next for you?"

"I don't understand." Confused, Jim stared at Peter, needing clarification before he answered the question.

"What's next for you?" Peter repeated, trying not to grimace. It wasn't something he wanted to know. "And for Trixie? Do you plan on keeping this truce of yours active or will it be declared null and void once the wedding is over? Will things go back to the way they were before?"

"None of your business." Jim glowered down at his glass, keeping back a righteous swear with a noticeable effort.

"No need to get irritated," Peter remarked cheerfully. Victory was nearly in his grasp. "I'm merely making small talk here, Jim, that's all. You know. I'm keeping the conversation flowing while we wait it out. My daughter seems to be the best choice for us to talk about." He affected an innocent look. "I don't mean anything by it, Jim. You've got to believe me. I really don't."

Jim breathed in harshly, let out a long, low answering breath. The man was one hell of an accomplished liar. "Like hell," he uttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes and showing Peter that he didn't believe him at all.

"Can't fool you, can I?" Peter's lips twitched with dark, suppressed humor and he added further insult to injury by reaching out and clapping Jim on the shoulder. "Well, it seems that you and your family didn't waste all that money at NYU and Harvard Law School. There definitely are some smarts up there in that brain of yours."

He couldn't help it. He downed the last of his beer and laid the glass back on the counter with a sharp snap. One was always his limit. He never allowed himself more. Recognizing the fact that he was going to need to keep his wits about him, Jim turned down the bartender's quiet offer for a second one. Using the time to analyze the situation, he came up with the only possible way to turn the tables. Overlooking the thinly veiled insult was necessary. He turned back to Peter, his face as warm as he could make it, and prompted, "I believe you wanted to know what was next, right?"

The satisfied expression slipped off his face. Peter didn't want to know, had only inquired to be a smart ass and make Jim furious enough, embarrassed enough, or distressed enough to abandon his post. Now that Jim had brought it back up, he couldn't say anything but grouch out a less-than-enthusiastic, "Yeah."

Jim drew out a sigh that was meant to be irritating, starting to feel like he may have gained the upper hand for the first time. "I don't know the answer to that one myself, Mr. Belden. I doubt we'll go back to the way it's been for the past few years, though." Not that he wanted to brag, especially to Trixie's dad, but he couldn't resist tacking on, "We've had too many nice moments to settle for that again."

Jim had the pleasure of watching Peter's eyes darken to nearly black. "What kind of nice moments?" he gritted out through clenched teeth. Stalking away seemed like an absolutely fabulous idea but the two pairs of feminine blue eyes studying them intently from across the room wouldn't allow him to leave.

"Just nice moments," Jim answered with simple yet deceptive ease, rubbing more than a little salt over an open wound. "We've had a couple of nice conversations, went to White Plains together yesterday, and even took Jupiter and Susie out for a ride together. That's all. Nothing big." He shrugged a shoulder and smothered a satisfied grin. He could almost see the steam coming out of Peter's ears. Trixie's father definitely did not appreciate knowing that his daughter and her ex were enjoying time together, even if they were in some kind of purgatory where neither could actually or accurately name the current state of their relationship.

Nothing big. Right. Peter's thoughts were as grim as the sudden look on his face. No wonder why Trixie had come in so happy and carefree yesterday afternoon. He thought it was because of the group trip to White Plains but it looked like he was quite wrong. Then there was the softening of her features that occurred when they were discussing Jim earlier. No doubt about it. She was letting him back in. Time would only tell how far it would go. Dropping all pretense, he faced the young man down. "She'll go back to California," he reminded Jim with a spitefulness he never knew he was capable of experiencing.

"And I'll head back to the city." Neither thought sat well upon him. The smile slid off as the feeling of impending victory evaporated into nothingness.

Peter wasted no time in pressing his advantage. "So, you see, this truce of yours is more a 'time out of time' type of a thing. I doubt if it will be lasting or anything. She has her life out in sunny San Diego. You've got yours in big, bad New York City. Seems to me that you two have merely paved the way for making the few times a year you're actually in the same town together a little more pleasant for everyone. No big deal. Right?"

A dark look settled over his features. It wasn't anything new or anything he didn't realize. Peter didn't state anything but the truth. But the truth he was saying…it had the power to hurt, to grate, and to blow a hole through the resurgence of hope that had started to rekindle within him. Time out of time. San Diego. And New York City. There certainly didn't seem to be any kind of a middle ground there; at least, nothing that his generally shrewd green eyes could see.

Another long pocket of silence, with Peter becoming more and more assured of a win. "You realize we could call it a draw," Jim suggested, overlooking the provoking words from a minute earlier. He scanned the room, taking it all in. Life in the room continued on without them. Dancing, laughing, and good times. Everyone was experiencing it…everyone, that is, but him. He was the only one trapped in a moment from pure and utter hell. "If we leave together, no one would lose. Trixie and Mrs. Belden would probably end up sharing the duties in the kitchen."

Peter rubbed his hand over his chin and looked at it from all different angles. It sounded great…except he wouldn't win. He would, essentially, be waving a large white flag. Not bloody likely. "Hmm. I see. Everyone wins. You, me, Trixie, Helen. I like it," he lied and went in for the kill. "But I'll only agree to it on one condition."

Jim stood stock-still, inherently knowing that he was not going to like the condition. Not one bit. He hated to ask but did anyway. "What is it?"

"You answer my last question of the evening." Feeling supremely confident, Peter laid down his second empty glass.

He was going to absolutely despise the question. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind. Jim studied the older man. The aura of confidence was hard to ignore. "I'll reserve the right to not answer your question," he declared, needing an out.

"You certainly can if you don't want to answer it. We do happen to live in a free country, you know. All you'd have to do is leave, which would make me and Helen the winners. I wouldn't think any less of you." Peter shrugged his shoulder, wondered which way the young man would go. He leveled his gaze on Jim, almost felt sorry for the poor sap. The desire to win overrode his quick bout of sympathy. He pulled the trigger and waited for the blood to spill. "Are you still in love with my daughter?"

Jim didn't think twice. There was no way in hell he was answering that loaded question. No way. He looked Peter square in the eye, earning the older man's respect for not simply walking away, and offered his white flag without a moment's hesitation. "You win," he declared. With those simply uttered words, he turned on his heels and strode swiftly away.

"That's what I thought." Peter didn't revel in his triumph like he imagined he would. Most of his animosity towards Jim dissipated. Only a small bit remained since he was, after all, Trixie's father, and Trixie had been hurt and moved away. He had received a definitive, if unwilling, answer to his question. Peter slumped against the bar and watched the redhead stride away. Then he glanced towards Trixie, who was shaking her head in obvious disgruntlement to Helen's victorious smirk. He wondered if Trixie knew…worse, he wondered how she truly felt about Jim. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he started threading his way through the crowd towards his ecstatic wife.

I need to thank the wonderful editors who help me make each chapter better! Thanks so much to Pam, Joyce and the best sister anyone could ever wish to have!


	22. Chapter 22

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Two

Not possessing any urge to dance anymore, Trixie skirted around the edge of the room, stopping to chat with various people on her trek, until she reached her destination. The double doors signified freedom to her. Without glancing back, she slipped through them and leaned up against the outer wall, in-between two beautifully framed sketches of historic landmarks of Sleepyside by local artists. The hallway was bright with light but deserted. There was only the receptionist seated at the front desk at the far end of the hall, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she took down relevant information. Grateful to have a few precious moments of alone time granted to her from the gaiety within the room at her back, she closed her eyes and breathed in a slow breath of quiet, peaceful air. Only the muted sound of the dance music could be heard coming through the wall.

Slowly, she reopened her eyes. The doorway to the large ball room, where the official reception would be held in less than twenty-four hours, was within easy walking distance. Of course, the doorway was closed. And, of course, her curiosity got the better of her, like it usually did. Before she had time to reconsider her thoughts or wonder if the country club staff would find fault with her for entering the room, she reached out and turned the brass handle. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked. It turned easily under her hands, allowing her entrance should she desire it.

Trixie sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door after only a slight hesitation. The room was darkened with shadows, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the generous amount of windows. Leaving the door slit open the tiniest of bits, she entered the room and took it all in, amazed by the sight before her. Even in the darkness, it radiated magic and the promise of something more. Circular tables were draped in pristine white tablecloths. Tall, unlit candles adorned each of them. Mirrored bases were placed precisely in the center; would hold the floral arrangements once the florist delivered them, fresh and ready, in the morning. A large sign proudly proclaimed the number of each table, in order to assist the guests in finding their assigned table setting. Fake gold and ivory rose petals, with tiny gold confetti hearts, were mixed together and outlined the mirrors. Balloons would be added first thing in the morning, to add even more to the celebratory ambience of the room. "Honey's going to love this," she said to herself. Her low heels clicked across the smooth, polished floor.

Trixie walked past the gift table set discretely off to the side, ignored the pretty white birdcage that guests could place cards in, and unerringly found her way to the large head table, where the wedding party would sit for the meal. Their place cards were already laid out, plainly telling everyone their assignments. She reached down, picked up hers, and had to chuckle when she saw the identity of the person sitting next to her. Most likely Honey had chosen the placement and had thumbed her nose at convention at the same time. Jim should have been seated on the other side of Brian. He wasn't. He was sitting right next to her. "Oh, Honey Wheeler," she chuckled under her breath, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."

The last of her chuckles faded away when the door squeaked open again. Going on instinct, she went completely and totally still. She lifted her head, a guilty expression on her face, and ordered her heart to slow down. Slowly, she let out a loud, relieved sigh when she recognized a familiar head poke his red hair through the door. It took the emerald eyes less than a second to find her in the large room. "Hey," she said, waving her small card in the air, refusing to feel guilty for snooping. He had caught her at it many times in the past.

Jim nodded his greeting and traveled through thin beams of pale moonlight to get to her. The shadows didn't dim her allure. Instead, the combination of dark and light filtering around her made her incredibly more appealing to him. The rekindling of a friendship, and the hope of something even more, gave him the courage he needed to move forward. At that moment in time he couldn't stop moving towards her, not if his very life depended on it. When he reached her, when she smiled up at him, when he was close enough to catch a hint of her shampoo, it felt like something lodged in his throat. Once he was relatively certain he could speak without embarrassing himself, he questioned, one eyebrow raised high, "Had enough celebrating in the other room, huh?"

Golden curls bounced when she shook her head. Casting her eyes downward, she carefully replaced her card. She took the time to make sure it was in its rightful place, perfect and orderly, not wanting to irritate Miss Trask who had a keen eye for such minor details. "Not really, I guess. I think I merely needed a few minutes of quiet time. I didn't feel like dancing anymore." Gesturing towards the row of cards on the head table, she posed an inquiry, blue eyes twinkling with mischief, "Do you think Honey would notice if we rearranged all our cards on her?"

It was hard to think with an intoxicating pair of sapphire eyes laughing up at him. In fact, it was practically impossible. Dumbly, he nodded his head and swiftly went through his short term memory banks to come up with a satisfactory answer to her question. "Oh, yeah, right. Place cards. I wouldn't test her, Trixie. Honey has done a great job at not letting the little things bother her. She hasn't turned into a bridezilla yet. Let's not chance it."

"Good idea." Her hand trailed along the creamy edge of the linen tablecloth before coming to rest at her thigh. Her fingers couldn't be still. They tapped lightly against the material of her dress. She cocked her head to the side and blurted out her most pressing question before thinking it through. "Why did you come here?" Immediately her face turned a bright shade of red.

Jim lifted a shoulder, unwilling to admit to her that he had seen her slip away from the others and had followed after her, like he had done so many times before in the past. He couldn't resist the need to know where she was going. It was that invisible thread that existed between them. Now that they were talking, it was back, with as strong of a pull as ever. He couldn't deny it but there was no way in hell he was going to bring it up. To anyone; especially to her. "I guess I wasn't in the mood to dance anymore, either," he finally settled on, feeling as if he had given her the lamest answer possible.

Trixie frowned at the large dance floor. The gleaming, glossy surface was waiting in anticipation for the throng of celebrators to grace it with their dance moves, both excellent and pathetic, on the morrow. Thinking about the expected wedding party dance didn't give her that feeling of horror it had been a week ago. She had expected to pin a smile on her face, go through the motion because it was expected of her, and survive it. Tonight, she realized that she was actually going to enjoy the dance. "We're going to have to get over that. They'll expect us to dance. The wedding party dance is an important part of the agenda tomorrow."

"You're right. We are scheduled for one, aren't we?" Jim looked down at his first partner at the reception and tried to recall the last time they had shared a dance. It hadn't been at Mart and Di's wedding. They had successfully avoided each other like the plague. However, a memory was there, tantalizing him because it was so close to his recall, but he couldn't call it up, not completely.

"A pretty big one, too." Being careful not to bump anything, Trixie rested a slim hip against the edge of the table. "Honey and Brian get the first one. We'll all be waiting on deck for the next one." With everyone watching. And cameras flashing. She was smart enough to know that everyone in attendance would sigh in absolute delight over Honey and Brian. Once they looked their fill upon the spotlighted couple of the evening, she and Jim would be next. People wouldn't be sighing for them, though. Their eyes would be sharp and shrewd, watching and waiting for a hint of anything to flare up between them, on the positive or negative side. Neutral was all they were going to get from her.

Because they were calm, because they were comfortable, and because they were at a more open point when compared to the painful years between them, Jim didn't screen his next question, in the same vein she had blurted hers out earlier. Without thinking it through, he gave it wings and let it fly. "When was the last time we danced together?" he wondered aloud.

Trixie went ram-rod straight before she ordered her body to relax. It complied, degree by slow degree, until she was almost as calm as she had been when he first joined her. She knew more than the answer, right down to the last song they had danced to. And she remembered much more than their dance from that night, much, much more. "My prom," she answered softly, sliding her eyes away from his. She couldn't look him in the face, didn't want to give him a window into what she was experiencing at that moment, and took refuge behind the hem of her dress. She found it immensely interesting and tried not to recall a warm spring night, a handsome man in a black and white tux and the sight of a beautiful blue dress pooling on the ground at her feet.

The breath he drew in was so sharp it should have cut his throat. No words came out. Speaking wasn't impossible. He couldn't get anything past his slack lips. Her prom, almost seven long years ago. _Her prom_. It rated as the most wonderful night he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. So far, nothing in his life had equaled it, before or afterwards. The softly uttered words threw him back in time, to when a certain look from him had the power to set her to blush and a shared touch caused the most amazing feelings in the world to explode within him. "Your prom," he finally forced out, his voice rough and raspy, and looked down at her bent head.

Relatively certain that her emotions were under control, she lifted her head, unaware that the moonlight cascaded beautifully across her features and turned her hair into burnished gold. When blue met green, she got swept up in the look he was giving her. It was one of those rare moments when they could see and understand what the other was feeling. A door was momentarily opened between them. One glaring emotion came through it, on both sides. Regret. It was there in the lack of smile on her face. It was there in the intense look in his eyes. Neither knew what to say next but both knew what they wanted to do.

A small burst of mumbled laughter from the hallway broke their connection. Trixie let out a small hum of surprise, glanced over the large, empty room, and wildly searched for something to break the intense wave of emotions flooding over her. She couldn't handle them, not right now. With a voice that didn't sound like her own, she latched onto the recent time he had been coerced into spending with her father. "You…ah…surprised me earlier. You managed to stay longer with my father than I thought you would have."

"What?" Jim had seen her lips move but hadn't heard a word she said. He tapped a hand to an ear to clear it and refused to be embarrassed to be caught not paying attention. His mind had been on other, much more pleasant things.

"You remember. By the bar. In the banquet room. Where the rehearsal dinner is being held?" she reminded him gently, inwardly relieved that they were moving away from the extremely sweet yet painful memory. She didn't know if she was strong enough to go down that road yet, especially with him standing right by her side. Her words tripped over themselves on the way out of her mouth, a testament to her nerves. "Remember? My mom and I found the whole thing rather entertaining. We even, ah, had a little bet going on."

"You know, I do seem to remember something like that," he replied with a hint of self-directed sarcasm. He pulled out a chair from a nearby table and motioned for her to sit down. Trixie carefully took her seat, eyeing him owlishly the whole time. "Your father and I figured out you were probably betting against us. Kitchen time on Sunday, right?" At her small nod, he gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry you lost."

"It's okay. Moms was impressed the two of you lasted as long as you did so she went easy on me. I only have to make and clean up breakfast. We'll share the rest of the meals." Trixie didn't add that Mart and Di had already set up a breakfast date with their family. Having the inside track, she was well-prepared for what they were going to say. Her mother merely thought that they were coming over to celebrate the day after the wedding, which almost always seemed like more of a let-down of emotion than anything else. Mart and Di picked a good day to tell the families. It was going to give everyone quite a needed pick-me-up.

"Good." He pulled out a seat next to her and searched for something to ask her while he sat down. He drummed his fingers on the table and followed her lead, mentally backing away from the memories of her prom night. "Did Di take care of our wedding present? I believe she volunteered to be in charge of it this time around."

Trixie's smile was beautiful. All traces of nervousness were gone. It was much easier to dwell in the simple and uncomplicated. "Yes. She made all the arrangements for us. Plus she made an absolutely beautiful card for Honey and Brian. She emailed me a picture of it after she finished with it." She bent down to retrieve her purse and came up, laughing at herself. Of course, her purse wasn't with her. She had left it at home. With the make-up she had refused to bring, as well as her cell phone. Crazy. Only in Sleepyside did she ever forget to carry her phone. It never happened when she was in California. "I can't show it to you, Jim. I left my cell at home."

"No problem." Needing something to do, he trailed his hand along the tablecloth and picked up his hand. Tiny golden confetti hearts glittered back at him, making him shake his head at the sight. "I love the fact that we agreed to offer a donation to a worthwhile charity for a wedding present," Jim remarked, proud of their collective choice. It was one thing the group had decided on last year, before Mart and Di's wedding. Instead of giving typical wedding presents, the non-marrying Bob-Whites pooled the money they would have spent on one and donated it to a charity in the names of the newly married couple. All seven felt that it kept the spirit of their club alive and well. "I didn't pay too much attention to the entire process, though. My dad's been keeping me pretty busy at work. What charity did we finally come up with for them?"

"Saint Jude's, of course." It was the perfect choice for the couple. It combined Honey's love of children with Brian's medical background. "They're going to love it. Mart also took a picture of the two of them from his wedding and Di painted a frame in their wedding colors for them. Gold and ivory. I haven't seen the frame yet but I know it's got to be absolutely beautiful." With Di's artistic ability there wasn't anything else it could be but gorgeous.

"They'll love the picture, too." Jim rubbed his hand on his pants, rolled his eyes when only a few pieces of the confetti fell off, and was glad he didn't have to clean up the room after the reception. The tiny pieces of confetti had to be an absolute nightmare to get rid of. "It's a good tradition we started with Mart and Di."

"I think so, too." The awkwardness was almost gone. Searching for another subject that was uncomplicated, Trixie pointed towards the banquet room. "How is everything in there?"

"Completely normal. It's starting to wind down a bit, though. Honey's friends from her college days were saying their farewells when I left. So were the Lynches. Whitney stayed behind but the others left." He grinned at Trixie's unladylike snort. "Mart and Di were the only couple left dancing on the dance floor. Honey and Brian were chatting with our parents, probably talking about the wedding. Your mother smiled at me when I walked past. Your father…" He left the rest unsaid.

"Ah." Trixie looked straight ahead. The scene was a vivid picture in her mind. "At least you're still alive," she remarked without thinking.

A short bark of laughter came out of him. "The only time I feared for my life was when that one time I came across him with an ax in his hand. I'd rather not relive that particular moment, thank you very much." He gave a small shudder at the thought. Sharing a few minutes of time together at the bar hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences but it was much better than facing down an irate father with an instrument of torture in his hands.

"It's not that he wants to hurt you…well, okay, maybe he's fantasized about it," Trixie quickly amended, taking back her words when Jim stared at her in comical disbelief. She almost reached out to cover his hands with hers, to offer comfort, but didn't. Because the thought was there, she settled for clasping her hands in her lap instead. "It's not that. It's the fact that he's never totally understood my…" Here her words trailed off. Her mouth opened and her eyes fastened on his. Nothing could have made her tear her gaze from him, not at that moment. Not a damn thing. She was practically swallowed up by the sea of green. She breathed in harshly, unable to comprehend that they were embarking on a discussion that had been relegated to the area of taboo for just about ever.

"Decision to leave," Jim finished lowly for her, caught up in the same spell that held her captive.

She didn't say anything. There weren't any words capable of getting past the knot in her throat or out of her suddenly slack mouth. How the hell they could have gotten onto this subject, the one that was the most forbidden and exceptionally painful for the two of them, was simply beyond her. It showed that it continued to more than fester below the surface, for both of them, since it was resurrected so easily when their combined defenses were down. She nodded in acquiescence, sapphire eyes wide.

Jim was trapped in the blue, as he usually was anytime she leveled them his way. Something magnetic, something hypnotic, something mesmerizing. They always drew him in…when he let them. He had excelled at ignoring the draw during their not-so-friendly years. The one essential question he had never voiced to her was on his lips, begging to be given life. Why? His heart started to pound, a bit of a painful beat, and his palms started to sweat. If he could understand the answer to his question, he knew they could put so much of the past behind them.

And, then, fate, that fickle and capricious creature, intervened. The door pushed open. A low giggle, murmured words, and the bright flash of the overhead lights flanking the large crystal chandelier lit up the room. It didn't merely break the spell. It eradicated it. Rapidly blinking to counteract the sharp contrast, Trixie whipped her head around to see who dared to enter the room, her heart beating erratically. She smoothed away the lines of annoyance before they were spotted. Something monumental had been interrupted. She couldn't help but regret it. Regret, it seemed, was going to be the word of the night for her.

Honey sauntered into the room and stopped, delighted with the beauty of the ballroom. It was better than her expectations. Caught up in her excitement, she didn't notice the other two inhabitants. "It's absolutely beautiful! Look, Brian! Just look at it!" she exclaimed, gripping her hands together before she reached back and dragged her fiancé fully into the room with her. Whirling around, she took it all in, a touch of wonderment on her face. "It's exactly how I pictured it to be. Don't you just love it, Brian?"

Smoothing a hand over her soft, honey-colored hair, Brian smiled indulgently back at her. It wasn't important to him. He didn't need the elegance, the trappings, or the sensational setting. All he needed was her. His look told her that. "I do," he responded huskily, making Honey giggle in an expression of pure joy.

"Brian Belden. You're a little early. That's your line for tomorrow," Honey admonished him gently. She stood up on tiptoes, lips pursed for an extremely welcome kiss, when she caught the other two out of the corner of her eyes. A becoming blush stole across her cheeks and she dropped back from him before reaching her destination, her mouth forming a small O of astonishment. She hadn't expected company. Immediately, nervous hands began smoothing away any imaginary lines on her dress. "Oh! Brian! We're not alone."

Brian swung around and blinked twice to make certain they weren't a figment of his imagination. Sure enough, his sister and his best friend were there, sitting at a table near the head table. Both wore an intense aura of something profound around them. They had interrupted something but Brian couldn't put his finger on what it was. It hadn't been a fight, of that he was certain. It hadn't been an expression of passion, either. What the hell was it? he asked himself, puzzled. He cleared his throat, preparing to make their farewells and pull his protesting bride-to-be away from the room so they could continue whatever it was that obviously needed continuing, when Jim beat him to the punch.

Just like that, the moment was gone. He couldn't decipher a way of remanufacturing it, not with the untimely interruption, and swore inwardly at the fates for breaking it up. Resolutely, he told himself that he would bring it up to Trixie again. It astonished the hell out of him that he wanted to know her full reasoning behind leaving…and made him wonder if she was curious about his thoughts from that long-ago time as well. Or was it all water under a very rickety bridge? He forced a crooked grin to his face, hoped that all the conflicting emotions he was battling weren't etched across his face for all to see, and hooked a thumb towards the banquet room. "Shouldn't the honored guests be in there?"

Brian threaded his fingers through Honey's and pulled her forward. The need to know why his sister and his best friend were communing together in a darkened room was bright but, in lieu of the coming ceremony, he chose to overlook it. "Someone wanted to get a sneak peek at the ballroom," he replied, motioning his head towards Honey.

Unperturbed, she giggled and threw her arms round Trixie. Completely ignorant, too caught up in her own happiness over the night and the anticipation of the coming day, Honey didn't have the foggiest notion that she had interrupted the beginnings of something extremely important between Jim and Trixie. She grabbed a chair and plopped down next to her maid of honor. "I couldn't resist, Trix. Miss Trask told me that it was almost finished. The balloons and the floral arrangements will be added tomorrow so that they'll be fresh for the reception but I had to get a look at the room for myself." Honey glanced up at the large chandelier above. With the extra lighting, the room sparkled with a vitality, a brilliance, and a warmth, as if it was merely waiting for her reception to take place.

"So this is what happened to the party!" Mart called out loudly from the doorway. With a resurgence of the infamous Belden trait that all of them could utilize when the situation warranted it, he rolled his eyes and announced in a carrying voice to a giggling Di, "Here I thought that they had abandoned us."

Di tossed him a saucy smile and sashayed her way into the room. She counted the group, came up with a round and even six, and frowned in dismay. "I'd say that it looks like an impromptu meeting of the Bob-Whites but we're regrettably one short. Dan's not here."

"Right behind you, Mrs. Belden," Dan announced with his trademark good cheer. He swaggered into the ballroom like he owned it and glanced around, taking in the splendor of the decorations. Gold and ivory met him at every turn. Very fancy, very tasteful, and very Honey. "Nice digs," he remarked approvingly.

"Thanks!" Honey replied enthusiastically and motioned for the others to come over to join them. "Did all of you want to get a sneak peek, too? I couldn't resist. I was just about to tell Trixie and Jim that there wasn't any way I could have left the country club tonight without peeking in here. I had to see what it looked like."

Di put one hand on the back of Trixie's chair and the other behind Honey's. Leaning down, she whispered in a joyful voice, "I remember coming in here the night before my wedding, Honey. It made me firmly believe that it was actually going to happen. Up until that point it had all felt like a dream, not like it was real. Seeing the finished, decorated room finally did it for me." She aimed a wink at Mart, who was chuckling with Brian. "I finally knew I was going to be his wife."

Honey shared a dreamy look with Di, understanding perfectly. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Trixie listened to her sister-in-laws discuss weddings and receptions. She swung her head around, saw Jim and Dan congregate off to the side of the group, and imagined that they were talking about the rest of their night. She heard something about Mr. Maypenny's cabin, action movies, and a contest to see how much pizza they could eat in one sitting. Her brothers didn't leave their lovely ladies. A smile touched her lips as she looked all of the couples over. They had all chosen successful career paths, with jobs that interested and challenged them. More important than their jobs, they had something more than she did. A soulmate. It was in the way Di wouldn't stop smiling at her husband and how Mart kept an arm around her waist, securing her to him or possibly anchoring himself to her. She couldn't tell which. It was probably a bit of both. Or the fact that Brian still held onto Honey's hand, as if it would be the worst possible thing in the world to ever let it go. It was sweet, almost painfully so, especially with the man she had always suspected of being her soulmate standing a few feet away from her.

Bobby threw back the door, startling the group, and called back over his shoulder. "Yeah, they're in here. Will you let everyone know where they're at, Whitney?" Having been given an affirmative answer, he came into the room, shaking his head in mock despair. "Some things never change," he declared, sighing deeply. "Even now, at a rehearsal dinner, you're all still gravitating towards each other."

Trixie chewed on her bottom lip, realizing how it must look to the rest of the party-goers. Bobby was right. Some things couldn't change, not really. The Bob-Whites were as tight-knit of a group as they came, with the only exception being her status with Jim and vice versa. And even that was changing. "What's going on out there?"

Bobby shrugged a shoulder and made his way towards the cluster of his family and friends. "The party's finally winding down. The parents were a little concerned, though, when all of you disappeared around the same time. I think Moms was worried that you managed to stumble across a mystery, Trixie." He reached out and ruffled a hand through her crown of curls, earning an affronted glare in the process.

"Don't encourage her, Bobby," Mart chimed in, dropping his head on top of Di's head. His hand rested on her stomach, palm flat, and flexed against the secret within. "We want a peaceful weekend."

Trixie merely rolled her eyes and refused to take the bait, showing more strength than she had as a teenager. She stood up, pushed her chair back in, and looked around at the others. "We should probably see if they need any help cleaning up or anything."

"We can't leave. Not yet!" Honey called out shrilly. She searched frantically through her purse and pulled out her digital camera, waving it triumphantly for all to see. "We can't leave the room. We haven't had our official picture yet."

A chorus of loud groans met her announcement. Di shushed everyone with a regal wave of her hand. "It is tradition, guys. We always get a picture of all of us when we're together. It doesn't happen as much as we would like, you know."

"I'm not much of a photographer. I think I could manage to do a decent job," Bobby offered, accepting the camera that Honey pressed into his hand. She quickly went through the specifics of the device, showing him its ins and outs, before rejoining her friends.

"All right!" Mart held up his hands and motioned for Bobby to come forward. "Let's quiet down. The youngest Belden here has kindly offered to take our group shot. So, without further ado, let's get in order."

The groans were back, magnified and punctuated with a set of quietly uttered insults aimed his way that Mart cheerfully ignored, before everyone gathered in front of the head table. Honey and Brian ended up in the middle, with Mart, Di and then Dan completing out the right side of the line. Jim quietly stepped up next to Trixie, closing out their group. Because he wanted to rest his hand at her back, like he had done so many times in the past, he kept it pressed against his thigh. He was extremely conscious of the fact that she stood next to him. When her knee brushed against the material of his pants, he felt the innocent touch shoot straight through him.

Trixie's eyebrows shot up when he put himself next to her. Another first, she thought wryly, and successfully avoided Honey's interested and amused gaze. She was certain she'd be grilled about it later, when the women were alone for their sleepover. Since she didn't want to contemplate on how much fun that conversation was going to be, she tried to recall the last time they had stood next to each other for a photo op. She couldn't; it was beyond her mental capabilities. Unaware of how close they truly were, she shifted, only to have her knee brush up against his leg.

"What are you going to say when I count to three?" Bobby wondered, dropping the digital camera to his side, studying the group of seven with the barest hint of envy. He had great friends in Larry and Terry, a wonderful girlfriend in Whitney, and a good girl as a friend in Britney but he had never found a solid and supportive group that resembled the one his older siblings belonged to. "Are we going to be boring and go with the old stand-by or can you come up with something more creative?"

Brian elbowed Mart in the stomach before his brother could come out with an extremely sarcastic and inappropriate suggestion. "Bob-Whites sounds good," he broke in, ignoring the blue-eyed glare.

Mart rubbed his stomach. "First he won't let us dance down the aisle. Now he won't even let me offer a suggestion," he grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just for that I'm not going to tell you my idea."

"Thank God," Dan replied with an eye towards the heavens and a roguish grin on his lips.

When Mart bristled, Di swiftly whispered a few comforting words in his ear and stuck her arm around his waist. "Let's get to it, Bobby," she declared, tossing her dark hair back and smiling beautifully for the camera. "I believe we decided on Bob-Whites!"

From her placement next to the bride, Trixie smothered a chuckle, always enjoying any moment when her almost-twin got put in his place. It was even better when she wasn't the one doing it. She shot a quick look under her lashes towards Jim, who was wearing the same amused expression. "Bobby's right. Some things never change, do they?" she murmured softly.

"I'll echo Dan," Jim whispered back. "Thank God." And he meant it. There was nothing quite like being a member of their group. There was nothing better in the entire world than becoming closer to their co-president again. It was truly the sweetest gift he had been given this past week. While he didn't have a clue why he deserved it, he wasn't about to question it. He was determined to make it continue once the wedding was over. He slanted a look towards her, wondered what thoughts were going through her fascinating mind, and would have been surprised to note that they were along the same lines as his.

Bobby knew better than to interrupt the newest round of teasing within the group. He didn't whistle. He didn't call attention to himself. Instead, he cheerfully counted to three, out loud and in a deep enough voice for any of them to have heard him if they had bothered to pay him the least bit of attention, and, with none of the Bob-Whites staring at him, clicked a shot. "There," he exclaimed, wiping his free hand on his pants. "That's it. We're all finished."

Seven heads turned to face him at once, staring at him comically in varying stages of righteous indignation. "I don't think so," his almost sister-in-law declared haughtily, a stern glint to her normally placid eyes. "Let's try it again, Bobby. Everyone's going to cooperate this time. Right?"

Everyone nodded, stood much more still, and actually looked at Bobby. Standing next to each other, Jim and Trixie weren't touching but there was an ease to them that hadn't been present before. Honey and Brian, her smaller hand encased in his larger one, had happiness practically radiating off of them in waves. Mart and Di, an arm wrapped around the other, with a small smirk on Mart's face and a lovely smile on Di's. And Dan, at the end, one lip curled up and his hands hanging loosely at his side. This time, when Bobby counted down, they all shouted out the appropriate phrase, "Bob-White!"

Bobby snapped the picture and immediately handed the camera over to Honey, who studied the digital picture with a discerning eye. She wanted to have the best picture possible to add to her scrapbook, already planning on starting it the second they returned home from their honeymoon, when it was all still fresh in her mind. "It's perfectly perfect," she declared after her close scrutiny and handed the camera towards other interested hands.

Trixie thought that it had to be the best one taken of the group since the girls' high school graduation. There wasn't an ounce of tension or conflict captured on the small, digitalized screen. Everyone looked happy and carefree. It didn't make her cringe like a few other group shots had. A freckled hand reached out for the camera. She handed it over to Jim and watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye. He obviously approved of it because he gave it back to his sister with a large smile. Lifting her eyebrows in appreciation, she tuned back into the conversation. It seemed that they had moved on to the topic of their plans for the rest of the evening.

"Yeah. Mart's right. It's about time to leave. My uncle left early to go pick up Mr. Maypenny. He should have had plenty of time to get him and head back to his apartment. The cabin is completely ready for the four of us," Dan shared, winking at his friends.

"It's very nice of Mr. Maypenny to give up the cabin again," Di remarked, knowing that the men enjoyed having the time together. She took Honey's camera from Jim and flipped it to the picture.

"He likes the thought of helping us out. You know Mr. Maypenny." Dan shook his head, grinning at the thought of his former guardian. "No one could talk him into coming to the rehearsal but he'll definitely be at the wedding tomorrow. Uncle Bill will see to that."

A large circular clock with embossed Roman numerals dutifully showed that it was nearing ten o'clock. Not exactly late but, since it was the night before her wedding, Honey decided it was time to leave. "I think it's time to for us to leave," Honey declared, including both Trixie and Di in her glance. "Don't forget, ladies. You two are keeping me company tonight, remember?"

"Right," Di replied absently, staring down at the picture on the small screen. Her violet eyes softened with emotion when she noticed how Mart's hand rested on her belly. Curious about the first shot, she hit the back arrow to find it and smothered a small chuckle. Mart's mouth was open, her eyes were closed, Dan had been caught in the middle of a laugh. His head was thrown back and he looked goofy instead of his normal cool composure. Honey was smoothing back her hair in preparation for the shot and Brian's face was blurred since Bobby caught him in motion. When she slid her eyes over to Trixie and Jim, she received quite a shock. They didn't look silly or out of focus or abnormal. No, they were caught in profile, staring intently at the other. A woman with an extremely strong intuitive nature, Di assessed the feelings emanating from the pair as longing, regret and a yearning that couldn't be concealed from the unforgiving eye of the camera lens. "Whoa," she murmured, more than stunned, and quickly looked over at the two subjects. Nope, nothing like that was visible now. She turned off the camera, handed it over to Honey, silently vowing to bring the matter up at the sleepover, when it was just the girls.

In the dark over Di's plans for her, Trixie smiled at Brian. "It is getting late. What about you? Are you ready to call it a night?"

Brian shot a quick look at his watch. "It's about time. We've got a big day tomorrow. We should probably head back over to the banquet room, see if anyone is left to say goodbye to." He let out a small chuckle. Luckily, everyone in that room knew the seven of them extremely well and understood beyond a shadow of a doubt how strong their connection was. They wouldn't have offended anyone by their prolonged absence.

Di stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a fleeting kiss to her husband's lips. "Have a good night, Mart. I'll see you in the morning." Then she gave in to the tug Honey had on her hand and let the bride drag her away from her husband.

Attached to Honey's other hand, Trixie had time to give the men a careless wave before being pulled away from them. "Who's driving?" she asked, risking one last glance back. She had to hurry her pace to keep up with Honey, who brought them to a complete halt in the hallway. "I'm carless since that thief over there has committed grand theft auto."

"Who?" Di throw a confused look over her shoulder, saw her younger sister make a bee-line towards Bobby who had followed behind them, most likely to reunite with his girlfriend, and replied, chuckling at herself for not making the connection. "Whitney told me about the car. She loves it, by the way."

"I'll drive us back," Honey offered. She dropped their hands long enough to sprint to her parents for a quick hug of farewell and offered them a whispered thank you before returning to her friends. Smiling, she aimed them towards the door and the parking lot, eager to start her last sleepover as Madeleine G. Wheeler. She could hardly wait to trade that Wheeler in for Belden. "Come on, girls. Let's go!"

As always, a wonderful thank you to three great ladies for their help and assistance! Thank you, Pam, bundysbaby, and the very best sister in the world! You're the best!


	23. Chapter 23

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Three

The last one to enter her bedroom, Honey stood on the threshold and looked it over. The walls were still the same shade of pale yellow with matching curtains adorning the windows. Two twin beds were still positioned in the exact same spots they had owned for the past few years. The rest of the furniture hadn't rearranged itself; they were in their regular places. Not much had changed. And yet…it seemed so empty now. Most of her personal belongings were already housed in her less than twenty-four hours away new home. All that remained were her furniture, a pair of pale pink pajamas, her robe, and two dresses hanging in the nearly empty closet. The dresses were identical and made out of a shimmery gold. They didn't even belong to her but were for the other inhabitants in her room.

It hit her then. This was her last night in her room, in the one place that had felt like a real and true home. Manor House. Tears stung her eyes before she resolutely blinked them away, not wanting to turn herself into an emotional wreck the night before her wedding. She drew in a soft, shaky breath and trailed a hand lovingly over the glossy wooden frame of the door. She was going to miss this place and all of its wonderful, cherished memories very, very much.

Di heard the small gasp. Puzzled, she glanced over her shoulder. Her overnight bag fell from her grasp to land in a muffled thud on the carpet. "Oh, Honey," she murmured softly. She raced back to hug her friend, understanding the powerful and conflicting emotions perfectly. Poignant, bittersweet, and undeniable, each and every single one. It wasn't too long ago when she had experienced the exact same ones. "You don't have to say a thing. I know exactly how you're feeling."

Although she'd never been in the same position as both Honey and Di, Trixie recognized the emotional upheaval without any problems. She didn't have a wedding in common with them but she did have her move out to California. Remembering how it felt each time she left Sleepyside to return to her other life in San Diego, she pressed her lips together. It always seemed like she was leaving a piece of herself behind. Every single time. Judging from the almost painful sentimentality reflected on Honey's face, it was the same thing Honey was experiencing, too. She didn't waste a single second before quickly joining in. "Don't worry, don't worry," she soothed. "It'll be fine, Honey."

Her shoulders shook slightly with the effort to keep the unexpected onslaught of tears at bay. Determined to win and not give in, she courageously sniffled them back. "I know it's silly," she said, accepting the tissue that Trixie offered her with a watery grin. "It's just that I finally realized that tonight's my last night here. I'm not going to be calling the Manor House my home anymore. I guess it's just a little odd."

Di tightened her embrace before letting go and waited until Honey was looking back at her. "I felt the same way, Honey, right before my wedding to Mart. There's no need to worry about it and definitely don't dwell on it. There'll be enough tomorrow that will make you want to cry." Inclining her head towards the woman they would share as a sister-in-law, she reiterated, "Just like Trixie said, it'll all be fine."

"Hey," Trixie broke in, desperately striving for something to break the sweetness of the moment before one, two or all three of them dissolved into a fit of sappy, sloppy tears. "If Di can handle living with my most annoying, irritating, and aggravating brother, you won't have any trouble at all adjusting to life with Brian. He's always been touted as the most sensible and understanding one of us all. It'll be a piece of cake for you, Honey. You've got my promise." Lips twitching, she crossed her heart.

A startled giggle worked its way past Honey's trembling lips, just like Trixie wanted. "It's not that, Trixie. Well, not just that," she hastily corrected herself, refusing to look at Di who was outright chuckling. "It's only…oh my…I'm not sure how to explain it." She walked into the center of her bedroom, stood between her beds, and did a slow pirouette around the room that had seen its share of teenage angst and boisterous sleepovers, of adolescent dreams, some that came true and others that went the way of the wind. Absently, she laid her purse down on the foot of a bed. "Out of all of the other places we lived in before moving to Sleepyside, this one, right here, is the only place that's ever felt like a home to me. Ever. It's going to be a little harder to leave it than I expected it to."

"Oh," Trixie mumbled. The quietly uttered words brought back vivid memories of the young, sickly Honey Wheeler who had first stepped foot in Sleepyside. Definitely a polar opposite from the shining, radiant woman standing before them now. She felt Di drape an arm around her shoulder and slanted a small smile her way. "I do see."

"Me, too." Having had her own demons to deal with at a young age, Di completely understood. She hurried over to Honey. "We're all so glad your family moved here. Every single one of us. Life in Sleepyside wouldn't have been the same without you."

When a set of amethyst and a pair of topaz colored eyes sparkled with the return of a suspicious moisture, Trixie swiftly searched for another way to end the pending assault. "I think Brian is the one who's most appreciative of your family's choice to move to Sleepyside," she quipped, tacking onto Di's response. "You're going to make him even more happy and even more appreciative tomorrow."

Honey's quick laugh was a little watery, matched her tremulous smile perfectly. After swiping a shaking finger under her eyes, she admitted quietly, "I guess I'd better get used to this. I'm going to be on quite an emotional roller-coaster tomorrow, aren't I?"

"You'd better believe it." Di leaned in and shared in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, "But that's the main reason why they invented waterproof mascara all those years ago. As long as you have some in your arsenal, you don't have to worry about a thing."

"Thank goodness I do," Honey replied, her voice still shaky. She took a deep, fortifying breath and fluttered her hands in the air. "All right. I think I've got it under control now. How, umm, how did you deal with all of these pesky emotions at your wedding, Di? I don't seem to remember you spending the day battling tears."

"I made sure I had a lot of tissues handy," Di shared helpfully.

"Okay. That doesn't sound too bad. The weapons of the day are waterproof mascara and tissues. I can handle that." Needing something constructive to do, Honey strode over to the entertainment stand that housed her television and her DVD player. The other electronic devices were conspicuously absent, having been packed up at the beginning of the week. She lifted up a brown paper bag and shook it. "I have movies!" she announced, valiantly striving for a joyful tone of voice.

"And Celia, bless her, left us popcorn and drinks." Trixie pointed to a large bowl and bottles of water resting on top of a nightstand. "That was really nice of her. I think we're just about set for the rest of the night."

"Almost." Di ran her fingers down the front of her pretty dress and kicked off her heels. "We have to get out of our dresses and slip into our sleepwear." Staring down at Honey's purse, a sudden idea hit her. Arching an expertly trimmed eyebrow, she stared speculatively at Trixie, swung her head back to Honey, and glanced down again at the purse, which sat at the foot of one of the beds. The idea grew and flourished, seemed to have been tailored made for the moment. One quick nod and she gave it her mark of approval.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to sleep tonight." Honey shook her head. Too energized, too nervous, and way too keyed up didn't seem to meet any of the normal requirements for sleep. She sat down on the guest bed, carefully placed the bag of movies besides her, and folded her hands in her lap, hoping that the demure position would help settle her down. It didn't. "We may have to make it a movie marathon, you know. If I can't sleep, then neither can either of you," she warned them with a wag of her index finger.

"Don't worry about it, Honey." Trixie stepped around Di's bag and headed over to the refreshments. Uncapping a bottle, she took a quick swallow of water and gestured towards the only married one in the group. "I seem to remember someone else in this room thinking they wouldn't be able to sleep the night before her wedding, too. That someone was asleep half an hour into the movie. You and I were the only ones who watched the entire show. Remember?"

Honey covered her mouth as giggle after giggle threatened to overtake her. She'd forgotten about that. Her best friend had come through yet again. Her smile conveyed her thanks. "You're right, Trix."

Trixie unknowingly gave Di the perfect way to get her out of the room. Reaching down, she picked up Trixie's bag and handed it over, a little more forcefully than necessary, all the while staring owlishly at her friend. "Just for bringing that up, Trix, you can use the bathroom out in the hallway. Honey and I will share the one in here." She prayed her smile looked natural and didn't arise any of Trixie's legions of legendary suspicions.

With eyebrows furrowed together, Trixie stared down at the bag Di had shoved at her. "Okay," she muttered, drawing out the syllables, bewildered by the force behind the suggestion. "I can take a hint." She frowned at Di, who attempted to look angelic and nearly pulled it off but Trixie had known her for far too long. Something was being plotted, of that she had no doubt. A quick glance at a perplexed Honey showed Trixie that she was clueless on this one. Lifting one shoulder, deciding she would rather find out later rather than sooner the reason why, she strode toward the door and let it close behind her with a soft click.

Honey waited until Trixie disappeared from sight. Immediately, she grabbed Di's elbow and holding her grinning friend hostage. "Tell me, Di," she hissed quietly, her eye on the door in case Trixie should surprise them with an unexpected return. "I can tell something's up. Why did you volunteer Trixie to use the hallway bathroom? What's going on?"

"You're wrong, Honey. I didn't volunteer her. I forced her," Di corrected, immensely pleased with herself.

Honey rolled her eyes. "Let's not quibble over word choices here. Tell me why you forced her out of the room."

Di covered her mouth and giggled. "The answer is in your camera. Go get it, Miss Wheeler. You'll see what I mean soon enough."

With little lines creasing her forehead, Honey obeyed, bewildered by what her camera had to do with anything. She found her purse easily enough and fumbled through it until the camera materialized in her hands. "What does my camera have to do with anything?" she wondered aloud, staring down at it in puzzlement. "I already saw the picture Bobby took of us at the reception hall."

"You forget. He took two shots," Di reminded her, her grin growing in anticipation. "Take a good look at the first shot Bobby took. It was the one to get our attention. I think you'll figure it out in no time." Shooting a quick grin over her shoulder, Di shouldered her overnight bag and scurried towards the attached bathroom. "Trixie will be even more suspicious if one of us isn't at least changed by the time she gets back. Look at it, Honey. Let me know if you see the same thing I see in it. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Di's departure from the room didn't register. Honey couldn't take her eyes off the small device in her hands. A dark pink, the camera didn't look that imposing or as if it could hold any interesting secrets at all. With a shrug of a slim shoulder, Honey pressed the on button and waited a few seconds for it to come to life. "The first shot," she mumbled, shaking her head, completely forgetting that Bobby had flashed one to get the seven of them to focus on him. "Hmm. I wonder what I'm going to find."

Her fingers worked quickly to pull up the screen to review the pictures saved on her memory card. The official group shot showed up first. Her heart sighed a little while she imagined what tomorrow's pictures were going to look like. The timely chiming of the ancient grandfather clock residing on the landing reminded her she didn't have too much time. Quickly, aware that she had a time limit, she pressed the back button and let out a sharp breath. "Oh, you are right, Di," she breathed out, looking beyond the other five people in the shot and zeroing in on her brother and her best friend. A knowing smile curled her lips. She quickly zoomed in on the pair, cutting the others out of the shot without a second thought. It became more obvious the closer she got to them. "Isn't that fascinating?"

"It certainly is!" Di answered, having flown through her nighttime routine to get back out into the bedroom before Trixie returned and brought an end to their little meeting. Clad in a pair of soft, oversized pajamas the color of a ripe eggplant, with her black hair hastily brushed and falling free around her shoulders, Di looked as if she had spent an hour getting ready for bed instead of a mere three minutes. She pulled her hair back with a matching scrunchy and flopped down unceremoniously on one of the beds. "What do you think, Honey? I've been dying to share it with you since I saw it but I couldn't, not with Trixie in the room."

"This whole week has gone better than I ever imagined it would," Honey said, a polished nail tapping against the digital screen. "Jim and Trixie have somehow managed to come much farther than I thought they would ever be capable of coming. It's hard to believe that only a few nights ago, really, I was meeting with Jim in his room, right across the hall, and encouraging him to discuss the wedding and their roles in it with Trixie. I didn't want either one of them to feel uncomfortable." As she stared down at the picture, she made a mental note to email it to the two of them. Hopefully, hopefully, the two would like it as much as she did.

Di flashed a brilliant, satisfied smile. "It finally looks like things may be going in the right direction for those two. Now that you know about it, I can't wait to show this picture to Trix. I've got to find out what she thinks about it."

Honey's mouth turned into a small O of astonishment. Thoughts of emailing the picture to her friend seemed daring. She hadn't contemplated actually shoving it under her nose. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You're going to show this to _Trixie_?" she questioned breathlessly, amazed by the suggestion, and slowly sank down onto the bed while nervous fingers began to play with the floral bedspread. "Like, tonight?"

"Right here, right now," Di assured her cheerfully. "I want to see how she reacts to it. I mean, it's so blatantly obvious that the two of them are more than interested in each other than either of them would like us to know. Maybe if we give her the right push…" She left the rest unsaid and lifted her shoulders.

"It would be amazing if it worked." Honey gazed at the picture one last time. "Absolutely, positively amazing. As in, the best possible wedding present I could ever ask for. But…" She sighed, took in a deep breath, and pushed the rest out, "What if what we're seeing is only because of the sentimentality of my wedding? Or of all of us finally being together for an extended period of time? That doesn't happen too much, you know. Or…"

"You're thinking way too much," Di chastised her gently and truthfully. "I'm not saying that Trixie and Jim are going to finally get their acts together sometime within the next twenty-four hours, realize that they have always been meant for each other, and reunite."

"That's not likely," Honey interrupted, hating to admit the truth of it when it was painfully obvious to her that they belonged together. "It's taken almost seven years for them to start talking with each other without one of us forcing them into it. A full reconciliation would require a miracle of the divine kind."

"Exactly." Di didn't need her friend to expound upon it. The chances of the two of them getting back together for good this weekend weren't exceptional. The future, though. That's where Di would lay her money down. "They've made a great beginning here, Honey. It's so clear to me that they aren't going to be satisfied with the way things have been between them for the past few years. No. They aren't going to let that happen again."

"It's a shame they don't live in the same place," Honey mused, tilting her head to the side while she contemplated the potential roadblocks between them. Residing the entire way across the country was definitely a drawback, one that would be difficult to overcome. "Close proximity would hurry them along a bit."

"It would but I don't see Trixie suddenly pulling up stakes and moving back or Jim deciding that he'd like to trade in the four seasons for the sunny weather of Southern California instead," Di inferred correctly. The truth popped her balloon of excitement, making her frown.

"It's a start, anyway," Honey declared with a curt nod of acceptance. She would take what she could get. "A better start than they've had since Trixie went off to college. I wish I'd be able to concentrate on the two of them tomorrow," she added a trifle wistfully.

"Oh, no. You're the bride. You concentrate on yourself and on Brian. I'll keep an eye on them tomorrow and for the rest of the time they're both in Sleepyside," she promised earnestly. "You only have to worry about marrying Brian and having the best day of your life. Don't worry. I'll give you a full report when you get back from your honeymoon."

"It's a deal!" Honey clasped her hands in excitement and gasped when the doorknob started to turn. "She's back!" she exclaimed and jumped up off the bed, a guilty expression on her face. The bag of movies fell over and spilled out. Honey didn't notice. She grabbed her pajamas and made a mad dash to the bathroom, wanting to be inside it before Trixie made it into the room. "I'll be out soon," she whispered back over her shoulder and closed the bathroom door at the exact moment Trixie opened the other one.

Di turned off the camera and placed it next to the lamp on the nightstand. Pasting a friendly smile on her face, she sat cross-legged on the bed and searched around the room for something to talk about. Her eyes immediately landed on the assortment of movies Honey had spilled on the other bed. Inspiration struck. "Oh my goodness, Trix!" she exclaimed, genuinely surprised and highly amused. "Would you look at that?"

Senses on high alert, Trixie skirted around Di's purple bag, which was lying on the floor, and cautiously approached her friend. "What are you talking about, Di?"

"Check out Honey's selections for the night," Di invited, spreading her hands out to include the movies lying on the pretty floral bedspread. "Tell me, Trixie. Do they look familiar to you?"

She followed Di's hands. _Runaway Bride_, _My Best Friend's Wedding, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Father of the Bride, _and_ The Wedding Singer_ were laid out before them. It took half a second to catch on. "Honey doesn't seem to have a very eclectic taste in movies," she murmured, smiling in remembrance. All movies were the same choices from a long-ago sleepover at Di's house. Trixie picked up _My Best Friend's Wedding_, the one they had watched that night, and joked, "We're really going to have to let someone else pick out the movies from now on, Di."

Getting ready in record time, Honey breezed back through the door and covered her mouth before a wayward giggle could escape. "They seemed appropriate," she defended herself, going for haughty and failing miserably. She sat down on her bed, grabbed a round, decorative pillow, and picked at the fringed edges. "If you remember, that's the night we picked out our maids of honor."

"I remember." Trixie sauntered over towards the nightstand and returned with the bowl of popcorn. "It worked out pretty well, too. Although, Di, you may have gotten the short end of the stick there."

"How so?" Di twirled a strand of hair that escaped her scrunchy around her finger and tucked it behind her ear.

"I highly doubt if you are ever going to be able to fulfill your duties as my maid of honor." Trixie chuckled and perched on the edge of the bed. With her head bowed, she missed the knowing looks that passed between her two friends, and popped a piece of the delicious popcorn into her mouth.

"I'd say that you could pick out the movie, Trix, but we may have something more…ah…entertaining to discuss instead of Honey's limited selection." A small chortle of glee was quickly contained while Honey nodded her head in eager agreement. Di eyed her prey carefully, saw the exact moment when Trixie went rigid, and swallowed back another laugh.

Her head snapped back. She nearly choked on the damn popcorn. Instantly alert, Trixie whipped around and studied her two best friends. It didn't escape her attention that Di was trying very hard not to laugh while Honey wouldn't meet her eyes. Exactly as she had expected before being pushed out of the room, something was going on. Worse, she suspected she already knew the answer. The only time the two of them ever became so goofy and foolish was when it involved her and…Jim. "What do you mean?" Trixie bit her bottom lip and waited with a mixture of dread and apprehension for the coming answer.

"Oh, come on," Di remarked with an exaggerated roll of her violet eyes. "You've got to know by now, Trixie Belden."

Trixie turned her back on them and focused solely on the movies, pointedly ignoring Di's assertion. If she ignored it there was a chance they would let her off the hook. A slim chance but one she hoped would come to fruition. "So," she declared in an exceptionally cheerful voice that didn't fool the others for a minute, "are we going to watch a movie or not? I seem to remember someone saying they didn't want to stay up too late tonight on the car ride over."

A little bubble of laughter escaped from Honey's lips before she could prevent it. Teasing Trixie always proved to be quite a memorable experience. She didn't partake in it often; usually left it up to Mart, Dan or someone else, but there was certainly something to be said for the sport. "I'm with Di on this one," she sang out sweetly, leaving her post by the edge of the bed and walking around it with deceptive nonchalance until Trixie was sandwiched between the two of them.

With Honey standing in front of her and Di at her back, Trixie realized that she was trapped. And all she had was a bowl of popcorn. Pitiful. Still, she gave it a valiant effort. "It's not even eleven o'clock yet," she said, her voice bright and chipper. "We have plenty of time to watch a movie before turning in for the night."

"Maybe later. We'll see how long this lasts first." Di reached out for the camera, flipped it on and held it aloft, like it was a flag from a conquering army. "I showed Honey something very interesting while you were using the hallway bathroom. Would you like to see it?" She blinked once, twice, while awaiting the answer.

Something told her she shouldn't accept it. She definitely didn't want to see it, whatever it was. She should let it stay right where it was, in Di's hands. But, with Di and now Honey both blinking expectantly at her, she wasn't left with a choice. She had to accept it. Stifling an inner groan, she rested the bowl on her hip and reluctantly took the camera. "I don't see anything new," she muttered, bewildered. The same group shot she had already seen smiled back at her.

"Sorry about that. I didn't call up the right picture. How silly of me." Di smacked an overly dramatic hand to her forehead. "Allow me," she offered and gallantly reached over Trixie's shoulder to hit the back button for her friend. "This is it. This is the one we want you to see."

It took less than a heartbeat for Trixie to zero in on the current cause of her apprehension. The shot Bobby had taken to get their attention shone back at her, in all its telltale, revealing glory. She couldn't hide anything from the two eagle-eyed ladies staring at her with matching Cheshire-cat grins on their faces. Bobby had caught her and Jim in their quiet, almost private conversation. Jim was staring as intently as he possibly could at her while she…Trixie couldn't believe it. It almost felt like the longing she felt for him was coming off in something concrete and tangible from the digital screen. "Gleeps," she said under her breath, a little in shock and in a lot of awe at the power of the candid picture.

"Gleeps," Di and Honey chorused back together. They stared at each other and dissolved into another round of giggles.

Their boisterous laughter didn't break her concentration. All she heard was the roaring in her ears. Jim had really looked at her like that? As if he didn't ever want to stop looking at her? As if he had the same regrets about the status of their relationship that she had? _Jim_? Going for nonchalant and failing miserably, she handed the camera back, head tilted down, and hoped her curls hid her face from view. She slid down the front of the bed, hoping that her friends couldn't see the mile-wide grin spreading across her face, until she made contact with the floor. Then, and only then, was she able to smooth away the smile and resume a more placid expression. But the shining light in the depths of her eyes gave her away.

More than a little perturbed, Di scowled at Honey. "She's not getting away with it," she mouthed and, as carefully as if they were launching a military campaign instead of enjoying a simple sleepover, slipped off the bed and came around both sides of Trixie.

"'Gleeps', she says. That isn't going to cut it," Honey announced with a decided sniff. She grabbed the bowl out of Trixie's hand and dropped it on the carpet, where it landed with a muffled thump. A few pieces spilled out, littered the floor, but no one made a move to pick them up.

"Yeah. You're talking to two married…well, one married and one very nearly married," Di amended with a quick wink at Honey, "ladies here. We have to live vicariously through others when it comes to dating or something like that since we've been with your brothers for, like, forever."

"Jim and I aren't dating," Trixie muttered, finding the intricate pattern on the carpet extremely interesting. Catching sight of the spilled pieces of popcorn, she concentrated hard on picking them up and placing them into a small pile off to the side. Her long curls formed a curtain, blocking her face from their view, while she willed back the heated flush that even the thought of potentially dating Jim brought to her face. Amazingly, she succeeded but she had a horrid feeling that she wouldn't be able to battle it for much longer.

"Dating? No," Honey agreed, staring over Trixie's bent head again at Di, and smiled with absolute joy. "But they're doing something here. It's almost like watching our early high school years all over again. All those fond glances, if you know what I mean." She held up the camera with a triumphant grin. "I don't think you can get much 'fonder' than the looks the two are giving each other right here. And who would have thought that Bobby Belden, of all people, would be the one to capture it?"

Trixie squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the childish urge to cover her ears. She tried to remind herself that she worked for the most covert agency in the entire world. She tried to convince herself that she could handle two near and dear friends prying into her private feelings, her private life, without any trouble. Unfortunately, she was dead wrong. It wasn't working. No matter how hard she tried to block out their words, she couldn't do it. They kept replaying through in her mind. A small, inward voice taunted that it was worse because she wished their words to be true. Realizing that she had been silent for too long, Trixie cleared her throat. "Umm…the movie?" she brought up again, her tone hopeful although she knew she didn't have a prayer of a chance, not with the two she had the best misfortune to call friends.

Honey dropped down besides her and practically cackled in anticipation. "The movie's being put off for awhile. We can pop one in as soon as you give us something to go on here, Trix." She leaned closer, waved an airy hand, and cajoled, "A little something. It doesn't have to be huge or earth-shattering, you know. Di and I just want to know a little about what is going on in that fascinating mind of yours." She tapped a finger against Trixie's forehead.

"Something," Di reiterated, her violet eyes dancing with unmitigated glee. "Anything, really. You know Honey and me. We're not too picky." She reached over Trixie and popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "Just give us a small insight and we'll be glad to let things go." For a while, she thought with a crafty grin but didn't voice it.

"You're right. I should know better by now," Trixie grouched, crinkling her nose in disgust. Wouldn't her coworkers love to know that her resolve could be easily taken down by an occupational therapist and an assistant curator to a museum? They'd have a field day with it, she mused with a small sigh, aimed entirely at herself. It was a bit lowering to know that they could cut through any type of defense she had constructed, no matter how strongly. "I've never been able to keep anything from you two."

"Nope," Honey chirped cheerfully. "You can consider it an early wedding present to me. All we want to know is what's going on between you and Jim. Simple."

Simple. Trixie bit back an unladylike snort at the word. It was possibly the worst possible word to describe them. There was nothing simple about her and Jim. Never had been, come to think of it. Staring at the blank screen of the television, she attempted to collect her thoughts and formulate a response. A nearly impossible feat since she didn't know what to say. No true answer came to her, nothing that would completely satisfy her or her two interested friends. "I guess we've been getting more comfortable around each other," she finally murmured, a slight scowl darkening her features. It sounded lame to her. She chewed on her bottom lip and risked a glance at the others. Judging from the exasperated expressions on their faces, they weren't buying her answer either.

"I think we've all been able to figure that one out," Di said sarcastically with a deep, disappointed sigh and a curled upper lip. "Nothing new there, Belden. Try again."

Trixie couldn't help it. She giggled. It was nervous and had a hysterical tinge to it but it was definitely a giggle, very girlish in quality and more reminiscent of middle-schooler instead of the sophisticated secret agent that she had turned herself into. "Well, I guess I'll have to add that the more comfortable things get between us, the easier everything becomes."

Honey delved into the bowl, came up munching, and threw in her own demands, "More, Trix. We already know that, too. A little more specific, if you will. We need…well, we need more."

"Well, I guess, with that ease…" Trixie trailed off, searching for the correct words. She stood up, brushed off her thin cotton pajama bottoms, and put a hand on her hip, looking off into the distance. "It's hard for me to describe it. The closest I can come to saying is that the easier things are between us, the more it feels like…like before."

As in…before their big fight. As in…before her move to California. As in…when they were dating. Honey caught the unspoken implication and absolutely adored the sound of it. With a feline smile of pure contentment, she pushed herself off the floor and jumped up to join Trixie. "With it feeling like before, are you close to…" She rolled to a stop, her cheeks flaring a bright red, unable to finish the question.

"Are you close to kissing him?" Di didn't have any qualms about questioning it. "Hey, he's not my brother," she put in an aside when Honey gasped at her audacity, shrugging a philosophical shoulder, and chuckling. Her ponytail did a jaunty dance when she shook her head. "I don't mind asking her that question, Honey. And," she continued, pointing out the obvious, "judging from the becoming shade of red attacking her cheeks, I would say that we definitely have a positive answer."

Trixie glanced heavenward, wishing that the sudden advent of a natural disaster would arrive to save her from mortal embarrassment in the form of her friends, and ignored her snitch of a blush. "It's not even a consideration," she grumbled lowly, unable to look her friends in the eyes, and grimaced. The words sounded hollow to her own ears. There was no possible way that either of her friends would actually believe her. She didn't believe them herself.

Honey stared at Di. Di stared back at her. They considered the answer, glanced at Trixie who now found the carpet extremely interesting and was turning an even brighter shade of red, if that was even possible, and nodded in perfect agreement. They couldn't mistake the blatant lie. Realizing that they weren't going to get anything more out of their stubborn friend, pointed to the movies, Honey announced, putting an end to Trixie's embarrassment, "I think Trixie lived up to her end of the bargain. How about we put her out of misery and pop a movie in? It can be background noise. We don't even have to watch it if you don't want to. Maybe it'll help make me fall asleep."

"Sounds great!" Di chirped, letting Trixie finally wriggle off the hook without a moment's hesitation. As far as she was concerned, she had her answer. Now she only hoped to put it to good use. There had to be a way somehow to maneuver the two together tomorrow, she mused thoughtfully. Hoping to give fate more than a mere helpful shove tomorrow, she climbed back onto the bed, rested her head on an overly stuffed pillow, and said, "Seems to me it's the bride-to-be's choice tonight."

Trixie stood up. Carefully, she moved around her friends and deposited herself on the other bed, hardly daring to believe that they were willingly letting the subject go. Since neither seemed to be aiming any more lethal questions her way that were damaging to her equilibrium, she followed Di's lead and hugged a pillow to her chest. "Any preferences, Honey?"

"Not tonight." Without looking, Honey reached down and pulled out _Runaway Bride_ from the bag. Happy with her choice, she waved it in the air before putting it into the player. "This looks like a good one."

"The best," Di shot back. She aimed a warm smile their way and settled back onto her bed, thankful that she didn't need to share it tonight. Winking at Honey, she asserted, "And it's only going to get better."

On her way to reclaim her spot on the bed she was sharing with Trixie, Honey bounced straight back up and let out a little yelp, "Oh!"

Two sets of interested eyes followed her. "What's the problem, Honey?" Trixie inquired, her attention completely off the previews flashing across the television screen.

"Nothing bad, I promise. I merely forgot something. Wait right here, ladies, and I'll be back in a minute." Humming lightly under her breath, Honey skipped over towards a dresser and drew open a nearly empty drawer while Di and Trixie looked on curiously, completely ignoring the gentle swell of the musical request to press play for the movie to begin. She whirled back around, two emerald green boxes in her hand, and a large smile on her face. "I probably should wait until tomorrow when my side of the wedding party is all gathered together but why should I wait, right? I am the bride, you know, and I'd much rather give it these to you now, when it's just us, instead of tomorrow."

Trixie slowly stood up as Honey closed in on them, her head tilted to the side. A sudden memory of their shopping trip the day before came back to her. She had a very good idea about what the boxes contained. "Honey, you didn't have to," she began, only to be interrupted by Di.

"She didn't have to, Trixie, but don't tell her that. I can't wait to see what's inside mine!" Di's eyes shone with joy when she recognized the boxes. A lover of any type of accessory, whether it be purchased at the local mall or the fanciest of jewelry stores, she could hardly wait to see what was inside her box. She scrambled next to Trixie and clasped her hands together, eagerly anticipating the opening of the box.

Honey beamed happily at her friends. "I picked these up yesterday. You remember, right, Trix?" she asked expectantly. "I wanted to pick out something to show my gratitude and appreciation for my best friends." Smiling serenely, she held out a box towards each of them.

Trixie took the one that Honey had neatly printed her name on with a permanent marker. "You still didn't have to," she mumbled again, only to make Honey laugh, and, since she knew it was useless to argue, lifted open the box. Nestled inside were four matching items. A necklace, a bracelet, and a pair of dainty earrings. All gold and trimmed with pretty sapphire. She picked up the necklace. A sparkling pendant dangled from her hands, in the shape of a large circle. It had been a long time since she had worn anything blue. "It's beautiful," she breathed out and touched it reverently.

Di had the same set, only hers gleamed in purple amethyst. "Thank you," she said lowly before expertly attaching it around her neck. She dashed over to the mirror to get a better look at it and whirled back around. "Honey! It's just perfect."

Those damn tears were back, threatening to spill yet again. Honey furiously blinked them away and was thankful when her voice stayed firm. "The colors don't match. You can see that, since Di has purple and Trixie has blue. The other necklaces for everyone else have different stones, too, but the setting is the same. I wanted to get something that was a little similar but also a little bit different for each of you, if you know what I mean."

It took a few attempts but Trixie finally managed to conquer the dainty clasp. The sapphire winked just below the hollow of her neck, looking a bit incongruous against the light peach cotton pajamas she was wearing. She joined Di at the mirror and smiled a thank you back at Honey's reflection in it, not so much because of the jewelry but from the caring and considerate thought behind the gift. "I think we both understand you, Honey."

"Completely," Di declared vehemently, bobbing her head in complete agreement, and slipped her new earrings in to get the full picture.

Honey took the only available spot, right in-between her two friends. Smiling, she laced an arm through each of theirs, connecting them. "I knew you would," she whispered quietly. "You are the only two in the entire world who've ever been able to completely understand me, even when I'm at my worst or most incoherent." She gave a little chuckle, felt the warmth and love of their friendship surround her like a cozy blanket, and gazed into the mirror. Three faces, all different, all beautiful, stared back. It didn't get much better than the sight before her. Her lovely hazel eyes sparkled, both with happiness and the sheen of unshed tears. "Perfectly perfect."

A huge thank you to my sister, Pam and bundsbaby for making the story even better! Thanks, ladies!


	24. Chapter 24

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Saturday morning was flying by. A light, nutritious breakfast had been served in the dining room to all members of the wedding party and had been attempted, if not fully eaten, by more than a few of them. Hair appointments had been, in Trixie's opinion, suffered through. She brushed a hand over her curls, which were pulled back off her face with glistening pins, while the rest streamed down her shoulders. Somehow, the riotous mass managed to stay in place, most likely due to the manufactured magic contained within the bottles of various hair products a trained hairdresser applied to them. Di had also artfully given her a light touch of make-up. Breakfast. Hair. Make-up. All were checked off. The last thing that needed to be done was the big one: don their dresses.

On their way up the long staircase, Trixie ignored the chattering, excited Di at her side and tossed a look back towards the front door. A frown settled on her face. To her knowledge the Bob-White men hadn't put in an appearance to the house yet this morning. She hadn't heard a mention about any of them. Hopefully Brian knew enough to stay out of the Manor House and Honey's line of sight until the coast was clear. Honey was anxious enough as it was about her big day. She didn't need to worry about Brian unintentionally crossing her path.

When Trixie didn't respond to her most recent question, Di paused. A bare foot topped with a light, pretty shade of iridescent pink stopped, tapped out a harassed rhythm on the step. Following Trixie's eyes, knowing exactly who Trixie was looking for, Di gave up her bout of annoyance with her friend and let out a small sigh. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you? They're not here yet, are they?" she questioned, her lip caught between her teeth and unconsciously chewed off her recently applied lipstick. There was nothing else to say. She missed her husband.

Trixie read between the lines. Di didn't care as much about the whereabouts of the others. No, she wanted Mart at the house. She smiled reassuringly and answered truthfully, "I don't know, Di. No one has said anything yet but we've been extremely busy so far this morning. Have you talked to Mart today? Did he give you an expected time of arrival?"

Di started walking up the staircase. "We haven't officially talked yet. I sent him a good morning text this morning and he replied before we went downstairs. All went well last night at the cabin. I was merely hoping to actually spend a little bit of time with him before the wedding starts. He didn't say anything about when any of them would arrive, though." After blowing out a tiny, frustrated breath, she admitted, chuckling a little at her dependence on her husband, while her voice held an embarrassingly plaintive quality to it, "I didn't realize how much I would miss him. Texting is okay and all that but I'd much rather talk with him. I can't wait to see him again."

She didn't know how anyone could ever miss that particular brother of hers but Trixie wisely kept that train of thought to herself. Somehow, she didn't think that Di would appreciate it all that much. "If any of them have returned, we're in the clear for now. Honey's already upstairs with her mother. They're having a quiet moment together. We're under orders to finish getting dressed." She looked ruefully down at the pajamas she was still wearing from the night before and tugged at her thin cotton bottoms. "Somehow, I don't think Honey wants us walking down the aisle in these."

Di giggled and threaded an arm through Trixie's. "Come on. Our dresses are hanging up in Honey's closet. I think her dress is taking up a good portion of one of the upstairs guest rooms. Maya and Courtney are getting ready in another bedroom and I heard from Miss Trask that Celia is trying to wrangle Leah and Caleb into their cute little flower girl and ring bearer outfits right now, too." Eager to trade pajamas in for a beautiful dress, she pulled a slightly hesitant Trixie forward.

Keeping up with Diana Lynch Belden on a mission proved to be more difficult than Trixie expected. She lengthened her strides to match the taller woman's, seriously impressed with the way her sister-in-law could move when presented with the right incentive. Dressing up in an exquisite dress obviously qualified as one in her mind, if not exactly in Trixie's. Because she didn't have a choice, she accepted her fate gracefully and followed dutifully along.

Once they reached Honey's room, Di let go of Trixie and sprinted over to the closet. Reverently, she pulled out the first dress, held it up to her body and sighed dramatically. It wasn't hers. She handed it over to its rightful owner with a small pang of envy. "This petite one is definitely yours," she said, staring at her own gown. Another small sigh and she gingerly slipped it off its hanger. During the fitting earlier in the week, her seamstresses had quietly mentioned more than a few times how lucky it was to have the wedding so close. Otherwise, they highly doubted if the gown would have fit her for the wedding. Di touched the material, watched it shimmer in the sunlight, and fought back a string of disappointment. It was tough letting her vanity take a backseat to the laws of nature but, as she reminded herself, the little Belden growing within her was well worth any sacrifice. The thought chased away the melancholy and brought a merry glint to her lovely violet eyes. "Unfortunately, I think it's going to be a long time before I can fit into something that tiny again," she said, poking fun at herself with a remarkable amount of good cheer.

"Oh, stop, Di," Trixie admonished her gently. Leaning forward, she whispered, intentionally keeping her voice low should anyone enter the room unexpectedly, "You're pregnant. It's all going to be worth it. Just think about the wonderful present you're going to have in a few months."

"I do. Constantly," she admitted dreamily. "It amazes me all the time. In about six months I'm going to be holding a little Mart in my arms. How wonderful is that? "A wistful smile touched her lips while she imagined holding a tiny replica of her love. In her opinion, it didn't get much better than that.

Trixie tried not to shudder at the thought of a little diaper-clad Mart running around. He would probably eat them out of house and home and then wreck havoc on all the inhabitants of Sleepyside. The thought made her lips twitch. Tapping Di's shoulder, she pointed out, "Hey, don't sell yourself short. A baby Diana could be brewing inside you, instead."

"Brewing?" Di repeated, unable to decide if she should be affronted or amused by Trixie's description. She rubbed a hand over her belly and decided amusement was a much better emotion to experience. "Really, it doesn't matter to me if we have a little boy or girl 'brewing' inside me, as you so delicately put it. I can't wait to find out!"

"Good for you. I can't wait to discover if I'm going to have a little niece or nephew. You'll have to let me know the second you find out." Trixie laid her dress on the bed and sat down next to it, in absolutely no hurry to put it on. As far as she was concerned, it could wait a while longer. Waving an airy hand, she invited, "Why don't you get dressed first? I'll be glad to help zip you up if you need it."

Di didn't need any further urging. In no time at all, the lovely dress was gracing her body. While it was a little snug through the waist and bodice, it wasn't too noticeable. She stood in front of the full length mirror and arched a discerning eye. "Do you think anyone will know?" she wondered aloud, pirouetting around in front of the mirror. The slight changes to her body weren't obvious to her but she had become accustomed to them over the past few weeks. She turned to the side, looked for the sight of a bump, but couldn't see one, not with the way the dress draped gracefully from her waist to the floor.

"Not unless you tell them," Trixie hastened to reassure her. She wouldn't have been able to tell if Di hadn't told her about it. "You and Mart are coming over for breakfast tomorrow, right?"

"We're heading over to Crabapple Farm first thing in the morning," Di confirmed, eyes glistening with anticipation. Firmly believing Honey and Brian deserved their own moment in the spotlight, she knew she wouldn't be able to wait another minute to share once the wedding was over. She only hoped they made it through the round of hellos before spilling the news. "We're going to tell your family then. I doubt Mart will be able to hold the announcement back any longer. He'll probably tell them the second after we step through the front door. After we have breakfast with your family, we're planning on meeting my family for lunch. That's when I'll tell my mom, dad and any assorted others who happen to be at home."

"Moms and Dad are going to be over the moon with excitement about having a grandchild," Trixie shared, thankful that she was going to be there to witness their response. "They're going to be so thrilled for you and Mart. You two are going to be starting the newest generation of Beldens. Gleeps, it's amazing how fast things have changed for all of us. It seems like only a few days ago we were planning a community service project together or working as a group to solve our newest mystery. Now you two are going to be parents of the Bob-Whites' first baby and Honey's going to be marrying Brian. It's just, well…amazing," Trixie finished, intentionally using the same superlative to describe it because there wasn't any better one in her mind.

Di worried her lip. It was bittersweet to hear Trixie describe the paths two couples were set to take while her and Jim weren't anywhere close to starting upon one of them. Wanting to bring it up but understanding today wasn't the day to do it, she found herself murmuring an incomprehensible response. Scurrying over to the dresser, she flipped open the box Honey had given her last night. Competently, she fastened her gold necklace around her neck and absently played with the thin chain. The lovely amethyst pendant nestled in the hollow of her neck. She slipped in the matching earrings, gave her head a shake and watched them dangle and dance. "Honey certainly has good taste," she commented and fastened the bracelet.

About to agree, a musical chirp cut in. Trixie watched in amazement as her normally demure and relaxed sister-in-law sprinted back across the room to search for her cell phone which had slipped out of the pocket of her pajamas to land underneath the bed. "I wonder if that's Mart," she announced dryly to no one in particular, grinning at the sight of her normally staid and put-together sister-in-law on her hands and knees, searching valiantly for her twittering phone.

She found it and held it high in the air, proud of her find. "It is Mart!" Di exclaimed happily, ignoring the blatant amusement reflected on Trixie's face. After hastily reading the newest text, she started inching her way towards the door, completely forgetting to put her shoes on and anxious to get downstairs. "It's another text. He's finally here! He drove over with Dan. They're out in the stables right now but he'll be in very soon. He said that Brian's already here, too. No mention of Jim, though. Well, I…ahh… I'll be back in a few minutes!" With a wave and a whirl, not bothering to wait for Trixie's reply, she disappeared through the doorway in a flutter of glistening gold. The door didn't completely close behind her, was left partly open in her haste to leave. Her footsteps could be heard, rapidly receding down the hallway.

Trixie was left staring in a comical display of shock and admiration. Who would have thought it? Hurricane Diana at her best. She shook her head, making her curls bounce around her shoulders, and aimed a dark scowl down at her dress. "All right, then, dress," she muttered, frowning with acute displeasure. She picked it up between her fingertips. "It's just you and me now. Let's see who's going to win this round."

A few minutes later Trixie had to reluctantly concede defeat. While she could successfully push her body to the physical limits while out on an assignment or take out a number of bad guys, alone or with a group, the dress was proving too much to her. Her downfall started with that damn convertible bra from Honey. It took three tries before she remembered how to put it on correctly. And now the dress was proving to be exceedingly difficult. She reached behind, zipped the zipper up partway so the skirt of the dress would catch around her hips and not to fall to the ground. She needed to have both hands free to deal with the back of the halter. Irritated, she dropped her head back to glare at the ceiling, inwardly damning the person who created halter tops to begin with, especially ones that required teeny tiny buttons to fasten them together. A light knock at the door interrupted her frustrated fascination with the ceiling. Expecting it to be Di, she called out without glancing around, her annoyance evident with each word that came out of her mouth, "Can you help me, Di? We both know I'm all thumbs when it comes to dresses."

It wasn't Di who cautiously pushed the door the entire way open. Almost completely dressed in his tuxedo, only missing the black jacket to complete his outfit, with his hair still slightly damp from his shower and his face freshly shaven, Jim glanced around the room, stunned that Trixie, of all possible people, was inside it. Alone. And obviously more than a bit disgruntled, judging from the tone to her voice. Even better for him, she was only partially dressed. An amused grin crossed his lips and his heart started to pick up its beat. She appeared to be on the losing end of a battle with her bridesmaid dress. Clearing his throat, not wanting to come in until she invited him to, he posed the question, hoping for an affirmative answer, "Need some help?"

Trixie went stiff as a board. One hand pressed the front of the dress flat against her chest, hoping to prevent it from slipping, while the other fell to her side. She took one slow moment to wonder what type of an unlucky star she had been born under to have him find her in such a tenuous position and concentrated on breathing. In and out. Nice and slow. Not surprising, it didn't do anything to help her or qualm the attack of nerves. "No, not at all. I've got it under control," she lied, holding onto the dress with a death-grip, and tossed what she hoped was an easy smile his way over her shoulder.

"I can see that," he quipped back and held up a thin black strip of material, choosing to ignore the fact that a flush was heightening the color in her cheeks. "I'm in search of help myself. I was hoping to find Honey in here and have her tie this damn thing for me. My efforts wouldn't meet Miss Trask or my mother's high expectations. Any time I try it on my own, it always comes out looking crooked." He offered her a charming grin in an attempt to set her at ease.

"I'd offer to do it for you but it would only be a waste of time," Trixie replied, trying not to dwell on the fact that her dress wasn't completely fastened, her back was practically exposed to him, and that she could become a victim of a serious wardrobe malfunction at any time. It was difficult to pull off a serene façade but she attempted it with a courageous effort. Choosing to overlook the fact that she was only a small wind short of a seriously embarrassing situation, she turned around, hiding her back from view, and leaned up against the dresser. Her hand had a death-grip on the front of her gown. "Either Miss Trask, your mother or Honey would only end up fixing it for you."

"Your hands also seem to be rather full right now." He tucked the thin strip of material into the pocket of his pants. Coming to a quick and possibly dangerous decision, he strode over to her. He was going to help her, whether she wanted him to or not. Projecting a tone of authority to his voice he hoped she didn't shoot down, he said, his voice huskier than he expected it to be, "Here, Trixie. Turn back around. Let me help you."

Trixie swallowed an inner groan of defeat. She was positive that the golden dress must have been constructed for the hellish reason of tormenting her. Having Jim assist her into it wasn't the exact way she'd figure on getting ready for the day. Sensing it would be useless to resist, she sighed and, with her free hand, lifted the mass of free curls off her neck. "I can't seem to match up the damn button with the hole," she explained needlessly, giving him her back.

It was very nearly bare. Only the bra covered the tantalizing skin of her back. The skirt was caught slightly above her hips, allowing a good portion of her tattoo to show. He fought the urge to touch it, to trace it, to memorize it with his fingertips as well as his mind, and forced himself to concentrate on the simple chore at hand, which was more difficult than he expected. His breath became lodged in his throat. Suddenly, offering to help her win the battle with her gown didn't seem like the best idea. He hadn't been this close to her, in such an intimate way, in a long time. Far too long of a time. His blood pumped furiously, creating a rhythmic pounding in his head. Doubting if his trembling fingers would be more skillful than hers, he bit his lip and reached for the two straps dangling over her shoulders.

She wasn't prepared for his touch, even a light, skimming and purposeful one. She froze the second his fingers glided against her skin. Her startled eyes rose up, met the skillful sketch of Manor House Nick Roberts had done many years ago which Honey had bought and framed, and studied it with an intensity in a vain attempt to forget who was swiftly mastering the halter. Her heart pounded, an erratic, nearly painful beat, unknowingly matching the same rhythm as his. Time seemed to stand completely still.

It only took him about ten seconds to fasten the ends together but it felt like much longer. "There. I've got it," he said, a small stain of red to his cheeks. Before she could say anything else, he reached down and caught the zipper. Taking much longer than necessary, he zipped it up. With a mind not of his own, his fingers traced the edge of the gown, momentarily touching the bronze skin that the gold of the dress set off to perfection, before dropping them to his sides. Ordering himself, he took a series of deep, calming breaths and moved back from her. Being in such close proximity wasn't good for his hope of retaining any sense of emotional balance, especially when they were alone.

Her skin was tingling. Every single where. She glanced over her shoulder, wished she had the sophistication to pull off a nonchalant attitude with him, but she didn't. At least, not when she was in Sleepyside, and definitely not when she was in his presence. All she could do was stare at him, large, sapphire eyes wide and, for once, completely, totally open to him.

It would be heaven to drown in that tempting sea of blue. He cleared his throat before he did something really stupid, especially before the wedding of his sister to her brother, and took another huge step back until the back of his knees bumped into the bed. Straightening himself before he tumbled, he remarked, his voice low and hoarse, "All done, Trix."

Trix. He called her Trix. She couldn't remember the last time he had done that. She was always straight-up Trixie to him, never any kind of a nickname. No Beatrix. No Trix. No Belden or Dan's favored Hollywood. And definitely no Shamus. Nothing but Trixie. It brought a sweet, more painful ache to her than the one his touch had recently created. "No problem," she replied, proud when her voice came out controlled and even. Not a shake or wobble to it. She had her training to thank for that. "I appreciate the help."

"My pleasure." In desperate need of a distraction, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked around the room. It was still empty. No one else was suddenly materializing out of the woodwork. Leaving was most likely the best and only option for him but he couldn't make himself do it. Searching for something to say, anything to help prolong their time together, he came up with the obvious question, "Where is Honey?"

"Your mom came and got her when we were downstairs finishing our pre-wedding rituals." She smoothed a hand over her hair. "She wanted to have a private mother/daughter moment. Di and me think she probably wanted to give her that famous 'something old'," Trixie answered with a small laugh. Needing something to do, she walked over to the closet where she pulled out two pairs of matching golden shoes and ignored the lingering tingles his touch had created. One set of shoes had a much higher heel to it. The other was lower, a little more on the practical side. Without question, she sank her feet into the shorter shoes and bent down to fasten the thin straps around her ankles. Her hair formed a curtain, blocking her face off from view for the moment. Using the few precious seconds, she closed her eyes shut and prayed for the strength to not do something totally insane.

He made some kind of non-committal sound, something garbled, unintelligible and deep in his throat, while he watched her every movement. He hoped his eyes were hooded but had a strong feeling a good amount of the desire threatening to swallow him whole was coming through loud and clear, especially when she straightened up and gifted him with a tentative smile. He couldn't make his mouth curve in response, too caught up in the fascinating face looking back at him. He noted the accentuation of her features caused by the small dusting of powder on her face, as well as the mascara that lined her eyes and made them seem even larger than normal, as if that was even possible. Her lips weren't their normal, unpainted pink. No. They were a deeper shade and much glossier and even more…tantalizing. He figured it was a good thing for his health that she didn't normally wear much make-up. The little bit she had on was serving as a more than effective breakdown for his rapidly crumbling defenses. There was also a scent around her, something a little flowery, one that he guessed correctly Di or Honey must have sprayed her with, most likely in spite of her protest. Because he didn't feel like leaving, because he couldn't give up the few precious moments of alone time they were somehow being gifted with, but completely unable to make any sort of forward move with her, he settled for yet another comfortable and unobtrusive question, "What about Di? Where is she?"

"She got a text from Mart." Her eyes fell on her present from Honey. Relieved, grateful to have another chore to keep her mind occupied while in his presence, she walked over to it. Not quite as competently as Di, she still managed to clasp her necklace without needing an extra set of helping hands. "He and Dan got here a few minutes ago. She couldn't wait to see Mart."

"Yeah. They stayed behind to shower and clean up the cabin after me and Brian left," Jim shared, leaning against the wall and cataloguing each move she made as she put on her bracelet and her earrings. He caught the flash of blue, briefly wondered when the last time he had seen her wear that particular color, and couldn't come up with it, not with any certainty in the recent past. "I dropped Brian off at Regan's apartment a while ago where he's getting ready for the ceremony. He's under orders not to leave the apartment until Honey is safely tucked away, though. Honey doesn't want to have any accidental viewings."

"She won't have any," Trixie declared forcefully. "Not with all of us here to help them avoid something like that." Satisfied with her appearance, she turned and momentarily fluttered her hands, searching for something else to keep her occupied. The gold wraps Di had folded neatly and put on Honey's desk called out to her. She picked hers up, reflexively bunching and unbunching it in her suddenly nervous hands, while she worked hard not to openly stare at him or catalogue how terrific he looked in his tux.

"Hey, Trix! You're never going to believe this. Mart just told me that Brian and Jim are already…" Di's voice came to a comical stop as she barreled her way into the bedroom. Her mouth fell to the floor. Two people were in the room, two people who looked rather cozy and comfortable, and two people she certainly hadn't expected to find together. Many conflicting emotions flashed briefly across her face. Bewildered by the sight, stunned to find them alone, and immensely pleased that they were alone, she added, her voice squeaking a little, "Here."

"Hi, Di," Jim greeted and sent her his crooked grin, hoping to smooth over any suspicions Di may be having. Grateful that she was the one to come across them together and not Mart or Dan, who would make it their holy duty not to ever let him live it down, he offered, somewhat lamely, "I was searching for Honey and found Trixie instead."

Di lifted two perfectly styled eyebrows, entertained by his somewhat shoddy explanation. "Right," she murmured dryly and sashayed her way into the room, absolutely delighted with her find, and slashed a hand to her hip. Her plans of attempting to force the two of them together throughout the day were going to be much easier to accomplish than she had originally thought, especially with Trixie and Jim already cooperating so nicely without any assistance from her. Putting aside an insistent need to drill Trixie on what they were doing together, she inquired, her face as bland as her tone, "What did you need Honey for?"

Fingers fumbled for the tie in his pocket. "This," he explained, letting the material dangle through his fist. "I'm afraid I flunked how to tie one of these damn contraptions. I'm not skilled enough in creating one that would pass Miss Trask's careful inspection."

"He knew better than to ask me," Trixie swiftly inserted, for the first time finding her voice, and covered up palms suddenly wet with sweat with her wrap. Her pinned-on smile felt unnatural. She hated to admit it but she knew that they both looked guilty, which was insanely stupid since nothing untoward at all had transpired between them.

Di took the material from Jim. "Don't worry, Jim. I can help you. I'm pretty good at it. In fact, I recently took care of fixing my husband's and Dan's, too. I'd be glad to add you to my growing list." Within seconds she had it tied perfectly and stepped back to admire her work. "Hmm. Let's see," she muttered, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her chin. "You look perfect. Don't you think, Trix?" she inquired, tossing a look filled with feigned innocence Trixie's way.

Trixie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, their conversation from the night before extremely fresh in her mind. Di, it seemed, had some truly hidden depths to her. She made an internal vow to stay as far away from her as she could during the non-wedding parts of the day. Somehow, she knew it would be safer for her all-around. "You did a great job, Di," she settled for instead, not bothering to reply to that loaded question.

At that moment one flushed and beaming bride-to-be blew into the room, her soft terry-cloth robe of sea foam green flying behind her like a cape and a string of gleaming pearls adorning her neck. "Guess what, ladies?" Honey exclaimed excitedly, only to come to a screeching stop when she saw the other person in her room. "Jim! What on earth are you doing in here?"

He couldn't help it. One lip curled up. "It's nice to know I'm so welcome here," he remarked with a trace of brotherly sarcasm he normally didn't indulge in.

"I didn't mean it that way," Honey quickly assured him. "I only wondered what you are doing…" Her voice trailed off while her mouth bowed open in shock. "Wait a minute. If you're here, then does that mean that Brian's here, too?" Because he was the best man in the wedding, she immediately cast a worried glance around her bedroom, almost as if she expected Brian to walk out of the closet or pop up from behind the bed and join them. Satisfied that he wasn't going to, she slumped against the wall, willing her heart rate to go back to normal. She did not want to see him until that magical moment when she started her long walk towards him. There was no way she was going to court any type of bad luck on her wedding day.

"Relax, Honey," Jim said gently, choosing to forgo teasing her. "I dropped him off at Regan's apartment where he's getting ready a while ago. He's not in the house yet. You don't have to worry about running into him. In fact, he's not going to come over until one of us lets him knows that the coast is clear. Even then, he's going to be relegated to Dad's den. He won't be allowed to leave until it's time for the wedding. There is absolutely no possibility of the two of you crossing paths. I promise."

Because it was Jim making her that promise, Honey believed him with her entire heart. Her smile trembled a little, as did her voice. "Thank goodness. I want to see him but I don't want to see him, not before the wedding, as I'm sure all of you understand. It's that bad luck thing and all. I'll have none of that today, thank you very much."

Madeleine chose that moment to come into the bedroom. She paused on the threshold, her surprised gaze taking in all of the people in the room. "Why, hello, everyone," she greeted them, her smile warm and gentle. "It's nice to see all of you here but we're going to have to get rid of one of you. Jim, dear, it's ladies only right now, I'm afraid. We need to get Honey. Someone here gets to wear an absolutely gorgeous creation today." She nodded apologetically at him.

Trixie retrieved Di's shoes from the closet and handed them over to her, covering her ears when Honey let out a loud shriek of pure, unmitigated glee at the thought of finally putting on her gown. The sound reverberated around the walls. "Do you think she broke the sound barrier?" she mumbled lowly to Jim.

"Not yet. Give her some time," he mumbled just as quietly back.

"I heard that," Honey complained, sniffing indignantly. Ignoring her maid of honor and her fiancé's best man, she grabbed Di's hands. They started jumping up and down, their twin squeals of delight ringing throughout the room, making everyone else chuckle at their antics. "Can you believe it? It's time for my dress, Di! It's time for my dress! That means it's almost time for the wedding!"

"We're getting very close," Madeleine corrected softly. "But it's not time yet. After you get dressed, Honey, we need to meet the photographer downstairs. We have a few pictures that need to be taken before the wedding starts."

"Oh! Pictures!" On cloud nine, Honey dropped Di's hands and covered her rapidly beating heart. Her dress first and then pictures. In her mind it didn't get much better than that. Like a swift-moving summer breeze, she blew back out of the room, Di and her mother right besides her.

And just like that, they were left alone again. "Oh. Pictures," Trixie repeated under her breath, not quite as energetically or enthusiastically as Honey had said them a few seconds earlier. Remembering the multitude of pictures taken at Di's wedding, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the next hour or so. Posing for a never-ending stream of pictures wasn't a favored pastime of hers. "Wonderful."

"I saw the list of photo ops that my mother has planned to take before the wedding starts," Jim warned in a voice tinged with unexpressed humor, speaking low should his mother have developed a superior sense of hearing over the past few minutes. He tried not to laugh at the expression of comical distress on her face but he couldn't. She looked so pitiful. "It's two pages long, Trixie."

She squeezed her eyes tighter. "Thanks for the warning," she said after swallowing back a sigh. She touched her cheeks, swearing that she could already feel her facial muscles freezing up from all the smiling.

"No problem." When her blue eyes opened up, he motioned for her to go first and followed her out the door, doing his honorable best to keep his gaze high and any inappropriate thoughts at bay. He didn't succeed. The gentle sway of her hips drew his attention in spite of his best efforts. Fighting back an inner groan, he headed back to his room to grab his jacket and hopefully regain a small bit of his equilibrium. It amazed him how spending a few minutes of alone time with her could throw it all off. "Tell my mother I'll meet them downstairs. See you then, Trix."

His departing words brought her to another halt. Caught on the threshold of the doorway, she watched him disappear into his room and out of sight. Only then did she allow her true feelings to show. A euphoric feeling settled over her, making her smile bright and cheery and her eyes sparkle brighter than the stones in her jewelry. He called her Trix. Again. Suddenly the thought of posing for legions of photos didn't seem as bad as she thought it would be, not when she had something else to think about. Something extremely…interesting. Humming under her breath, lightly and slightly off-key, she walked to the bedroom that had been designated for Honey's final preparation. Her thoughts weren't on helping her best friend fit into her wedding gown. They were centered instead on the owner of the room a few doors away. Stopping in the hallway, Trixie slanted one last glance in that direction. Had she been able to view it, she would have been beyond shocked at the amount of wistfulness it contained.

As always, a wonderful thank you to my editors! You're the best!


	25. Chapter 25

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Five

Leaving her unsettling thoughts behind, Trixie entered the guest room that had been converted into preparation central for one Madeleine G. Wheeler. The sight that met her made her gasp. Honey stood in front of a large, full-length mirror, her eyes as wide and excited as a child's on Christmas morning. Her mother quietly whispered directions to Honey, reminding her that she needed to stay perfectly still while they slipped the dress over her. Di gingerly held on to the delicate material and, when Honey gave them the word, helped lift the gown over her head. Yards upon yards of white satin gently fell into place. The long train was unhooked, created a half-circle behind Honey, who ran her fingers over the material, enjoying the feel of it underneath her fingertips. Her buoyant giggles rang merrily throughout the room.

Trixie closed the door. "Honey, you look absolutely perfect!" she sang out and joined the women in front of the mirror.

"I believe the correct phrase would be 'perfectly perfect," Di corrected with a trilling laugh.

"Either one fits," Madeleine Wheeler declared, smiling benignly at both women. Cupping her daughter's shoulders, she gently turned her around until she could stare into the eyes that were a carbon copy of her own. "You are lovely, Honey. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen."

A smile flashed, brighter than the sun and more charming than the moon. "Thank you," she murmured and leaned forward, tossing her arms around her mother like she had once been afraid to do, so many years ago.

Madeleine returned her embrace back and reluctantly let go. Swiping a perfectly manicured finger underneath her eyes, she grabbed a stranglehold on her rapidly disintegrating emotions. Needing a distraction, she cleared her throat and turned to Trixie. "We didn't practice taming the train yesterday during the rehearsal," she announced, pointing to the part of the dress that the maid of honor was staring at with a mixture of incredulous horror on her face. "We can do that now. You'll be in charge of placing it out of the way during the ceremony so that Honey doesn't trip over it. It'll also need to be arranged nicely while she's up at the altar, too."

When Trixie's eyes widened in shock, Di gallantly stepped in and draped a comforting arm around her waist. "Don't worry, Trix. It's super easy. Honey helped me with it at my wedding, if you remember. All you have to do is pull it off to the side and smooth it out. There's nothing to it," she insisted, hoping to alleviate any fear that Trixie may be feeling over the simple task.

"Thanks," Trixie muttered back, appraising the innocent-looking section of the wedding garment with a perturbed scowl. Countless beads and crystals sparkled along the satin, catching and reflecting the light. When Madeleine motioned for her to pull the train out of the way so that Honey could walk over to the dresser, Trixie bent down and quickly moved it out of the way. She was surprised by how heavy the train actually was. Honey murmured a few encouraging words, smiled her thanks and practically bounced over to study her reflection again, this time in the mirror attached to the dresser. With Honey occupied, she bent down and copied Madeleine's competent hands. Together, the two ladies smoothed it out, making sure there weren't any wrinkles or anything showing, and Trixie made a few quick mental notes of how she needed to take care of the train during the wedding ceremony. Taming it turned out to be an apt term. "You couldn't have chosen a dress with a smaller train, could you?" she grumbled good-naturedly, arching a sarcastic eyebrow up at the beaming bride.

"Sorry, Trix," Honey said, grinning down at her. "If it makes you feel any better, the dress I almost settled on before I fell in love with this one had an even longer train." She patted Trixie's head. "You're getting off a little easier than you could have."

"Thanks," she replied dryly and stood back up.

"The veil is next," Madeleine reminded them. Well aware of their tendency to get side-tracked, she efficiently moved the young women along and carefully carried over the long, wispy material. After asking Honey to sit on the padded chair, she artfully meshed the comb into the elegant French twist. The veil cascaded down in back, three generous tiers of pure ivory, until it ended in its delicately scalloped edges. Narrowing her eyes, searching out any possible flaws, Madeleine stepped back. Her sharp, shrewd eyes didn't miss a thing. After a thoughtful and considerate pause, she declared, her tone as happy and excited as Honey's face, "You're ready, dear."

Honey immediately touched the filmy material falling down her back. She touched the silky soft material and rubbed it between her fingertips. A small object in white and blue dangling from Di's hand interrupted her preoccupation with the newest part of her wedding finery. Blushing a little, she accepted the garter and bent down to situate it high on her thigh, under the voluminous skirt of her gown. A stolen glance towards the clock showed about an hour and fifteen minutes before show time. To ward off another bout of nerves, Honey took a deep breath and, because she was in desperate need of a distraction, wondered aloud, "What happens next, Mother?"

"Pictures, of course!" Madeleine clasped her hands in bated anticipation. She had met with the photographer more than a few times to share her vision of what needed to be captured on film. Basically, she wanted it all, from the very beginning all the way through to the end. Not only did she want it all but she wanted it in black and white and in color, as well as close-up and far away. She also wanted many, many formal poses but the wonder and joy of unexpected, candid shots, too. The photographer and his employees were being paid extremely well to make certain they didn't miss a single magical moment of the Wheeler-Belden wedding. "It starts with you walking down the staircase. We'll take that shot first. Miss Trask and the head photographer should already be waiting for your arrival at the bottom of the stairs. After we're satisfied with the shots, we'll move to my living room and take a few more there before the wedding starts."

Honey knew her mother well enough to realize that a 'few more' really meant a few rolls. She choked back a giggle at the pained expression that briefly floated across Trixie's face. "It's so close. Almost unbelievably close," she said, her voice tinged with wonder and gifting her maid of honor with a reassuring smile. "It's going to go by so fast, isn't it?"

"You'd better believe it." Di picked up a small box from the dresser and offered it to Honey. "Your mother took care of your something old. I volunteered for something borrowed, Honey. It's the bracelet I wore for my wedding. Don't worry. It'll match your necklace perfectly."

Honey pulled out a pretty strand of small, glistening pearls. As Di stated, it was a perfect match for the strand around her neck, she quickly slipped it and lifted her wrist to admire the pretty bracelet. "Thanks, Di," she managed to get out past a throat clogged with unshed emotion. "I love it."

"My pleasure." Because her violet eyes were threatening to spill over with the first of many tears of the day, she added, infusing her voice with as much strength as she could muster, "But remember. They're only borrowed. I'll need them back. Okay?"

Having been given the task of finding something new for Honey, Trixie strode over to the antique dresser and picked up the small box wrapped in shiny ivory and gold paper she had snuck into the room before heading to breakfast earlier in the morning. "I kind of cheated on this one," she admitted as she carried it over to Honey and held it out. "It's not exactly from me. I'm only the one handing it over to you."

Bewildered by Trixie's puzzling words, a frown settling on her forehead, Honey accepted the box and played with the bow made out of piles of matching curling ribbon. "What is it?" she asked, somewhat stupidly since she only had to open it to find out what it was.

"It's from Brian," Trixie said with a laugh. "When I told him my assignment a few months back, he asked me for it, instead. He wanted to be the one to get you your 'something new', Honey. Go on. Open it up."

Long, aristocratic fingers eagerly tore into the gift wrapping without a thought for the pretty packaging and opened the box. "Oh!" she cried out, delighted with the items inside.

"He found out that you were wearing your grandmother's pearls and that Di was lending you her bracelet. I don't know where he got the idea but somewhere along the line he realized that you should have a matching set." Along with the others, Trixie swallowed a chuckle at the sight of Honey immediately pulling off the dazzling diamonds that had graced her ears and inserted the dangling pearls without a second thought.

"I'd say your almost husband made a good choice." Despite her best intentions, her first tears escaped. Di made a bee-line for the tissues and dabbed them away.

Honey smiled through the few that sprinkled from her eyes. "Thank goodness for waterproof mascara," she murmured, her voice catching.

"And tissues." With a flick of a wrist, Di whipped one out for Honey and passed it over to the sniffling bride, sharing a set of watery smiles.

Needing a few seconds to compose herself before she broke down into a sniveling mess, Honey turned away and stared towards the window. Golden beams of sun streamed through it, filtering through the thin curtains to make contrasting patterns of light and dark on the thick carpet. She walked slowly over to it, pushed back the curtains and stared outside, over the gardens. A few guests had already arrived; were walking around and admiring the charming setting for the upcoming wedding. Looking higher, Honey beamed at the sun breaking through a thin layer of clouds. It wasn't going to rain on her wedding day. "It's beautiful out today."

"A terrific day for a wedding," Di chimed in and settled her gold wrap around her arm. "And, if I remember correctly from my wedding, Miss Trask is probably chomping at the bit by now to get the first round of photos started." She received an affirmative nod from Madeleine.

"I'm certain of that." Wanting a few more minutes with her baby girl before she started the next phase of the day, Madeleine announced, "We'll be down in a few minutes. Would you mind letting Miss Trask know that we're ready to start?"

"Of course," Di said, grabbing Trixie's arm. Together, they left the room. Di stopped on the landing to get her wrap situated correctly around her back. The gold edges swung by either side of her legs, making a lovely accent for her gown. When she was ready, she descended the staircase, her eyes searching out her husband.

Trixie didn't take the same time or care with hers. Instead, she clutched hers in her hand, unmindful of any creases she may put it in. Exactly as Madeleine had predicted, Miss Trask and a photographer were waiting in the main hallway, their attention glued towards the staircase. "They're here," she said lowly.

"The first professional shot," Di whispered back, remembering the different poses she had been photographed in for her wedding. She hadn't minded a single one of them. Each and every picture was a treasure to her, a photographic memory of the very best day of her life.

"Honey looks like a dream. She's going to look terrific in all of them." About to say something else, a movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. Her mouth bowed before settling into a small grin. Nudging Di, she pointed towards the blonde man sauntering their way and ignored the tiny squeal of delight coming from her sister-in-law. As if they had been separated for longer than a mere fourteen hours, Mart grabbed his wife and proceeded to kiss her, quite soundly, and unashamedly right in front of his sister. Trixie groaned and found the vaulted ceiling extremely interesting. When a loud clear of her throat didn't break them apart, she went for something stronger and stepped on her brother's foot. "Is Brian still over at Regan's or is he hidden away here at the house?" Trixie inquired sweetly, ignoring the look of fury coming her way.

Scowling at her, shaking out his feet, Mart rested a cheek on the top of Di's head. In deference to the day, he didn't call her on her move. Arms wrapped around Di, holding her as tightly to him as he could, he said, "He's ready and safely ensconced in Mr. Wheeler's study, with both patriarchs of the family. Dr. Belden is specifically under orders not to leave the room without permission from anyone. Failure to do so could result in serious consequences," Mart answered, a humorous twinkle coming into the blue of his eyes.

Inclining her head towards the staircase, Di announced elatedly, "We're waiting on the star of the day. She should be down any moment. She's spending a little more quality time with her mother."

On ultra-quiet feet that served him well in his chosen profession, Dan came up on Trixie's other side. "What are we staring at?" he wanted to know, following their eyes to the empty staircase. Dressed in his wedding finery, he looked amazingly handsome in the stark black and white of his classic tuxedo. The only sign that he was slightly uncomfortable wearing it came when he tugged impatiently at his collar. Blue jeans were more his forte than formal wear.

Trixie caught the telling move and felt an immediate twinge of sympathy. She could endure a formal occasion and the clothing it required when the situation warranted it. "As if you didn't know," she remarked with a sarcastic snort that was incongruous with the beautiful gown adorning her body. Adding a roll of the eyes for good measure, she explained, "We're waiting on Honey."

"Ah. Yes. That makes sense. The first grand entrance of the day," Dan mused, slung a companionable arm around Trixie's shoulder and squeezed. Because Mart was once again kissing his wife quite soundly, he chose to ignore them and shared a look of disgust with Trixie at the public display of affection between the smitten couple. He half-turned them around so they wouldn't have to witness it. "Did you girls have a nice time together last night? Other than having Mrs. Belden over there help me with my tie I haven't had a chance to talk to any of you today."

"It was just like always," Trixie replied, choosing to forget about the mini-interrogation she had experienced at the extremely proficient hands of her best friends. Blushing a little, remembering exactly who had helped her conquer her dress, she smoothed her nervous hands over her skirt. That little gem of an unexpected experience was something she didn't plan on sharing. Not with anyone. She could only imagine the ribbing she would take for it. Her friends were nothing if not persistent in their teasing. And her skin wasn't nearly as thick as it would appear to be. "Did everything go well at the cabin?"

"The normal stuff." Dan shrugged a muscular shoulder and dropped his arm from Trixie. Jerking a hand towards the man who was still lip-locked with Di, he added impishly, "That one over there managed to eat most of the food, leaving only a few, pitiful crumbs for the rest of us. It was a good thing Jim had a cooler stuffed with food from the Manor House out in his SUV. Otherwise we may have starved."

"Hey! I resent that!" Mart exclaimed, lifting his head from the pleasant ministrations he was sharing with his wife. Blue eyes darkened and glared at Dan. "That's not accurate at all. I'll have you know that there was plenty to eat." His glare lightened with the help of Di's soothing, caressing hand on his back.

Trixie shook her head. It was too easy to imagine Mart eating them out of food. It had happened enough at the farm during their growing-up years. Thinking about the times they shared made her recall her absent siblings. Missing her older brother, she shared, curious about how he was doing, "I hear Brian is already on the premises. Is he doing well?"

"He's a little nervous," Dan answered with a low chuckle, remembering the half hour they had spent playing card games to pass the time in his uncle's apartment. It had been quite an experience to witness the normally dependable, calm, and focused oldest member of the Bob-Whites turn into a tense, distracted, and agitated wreck. "We played a few hands of poker to kill some time with my uncle and Mr. Maypenny. Brian's never been the best player in the world to begin with but today…well, let's just say it's a good thing we were using pretzel sticks and crackers in lieu of actual currency. If we hadn't, your brother would be seriously deep in the hole right now."

The thought of Brian veering so far away from his normally cool and composed self was amusing. It so rarely happened, made her remember how he bumbled through that summer a long time ago before he and Honey first started dating. Her lips tilted up at the corners. "That would have been a sight to see. I'm sorry I missed it," she said, laughing at the image in her mind. Any response Dan could have given her was silenced by a brisk and sharp directive from Miss Trask.

"Quiet, everyone!" Miss Trask ordered them with an understanding smile but a militant gleam to her eyes that dared any of them to go against her strict orders. The beginning stages were about to be set. She didn't want anything to go wrong. In fact, she wouldn't let anything go wrong, not on her watch. The wedding meant too much to her. Motioning to the photographer to get into his correct place, she added, "Madeleine's starting down the staircase. That's our sign to get ready. Honey will be coming down soon after she reaches us." She sent one last sweeping look to the four gathered in the hallway, waited until she met each and everyone's eyes. She knew her audience well. They weren't always the most patient, serene or subdued. "We need it quiet in here," she reiterated strongly.

Coming from his father's study, Jim stopped at the edge of the main hall and swiftly catalogued all the waiting people studying the staircase. Only the two stars of the day were missing. Since Brian was clearly out of the picture, he correctly inferred that the group was waiting for Honey to begin her descent. His gaze lingered briefly on Trixie. In profile, he caught the pert nose, the upturned lips, the slight pink to her cheeks. His fingers tingled from the memory of how her bare back felt underneath them from his assistance earlier in the day. Painting a crooked grin on his lips, he loped over to join his friends and saw his father sidle up next to his mother. Consciously choosing to stand next to Trixie, he acknowledged the others with a warm nod. "I'm glad I didn't miss this. Honey's coming down soon, isn't she?"

Trixie peered up at him, her smile breaking through and a brightness entering her eyes, making them match and surpass the glory of the stones embellishing her body. She tried not to focus on the fact that he was standing a mere six inches from her and worked hard to keep her features normal, especially within a room of eagle-eyed people. "It's a big moment."

"The biggest," Di proclaimed with feeling, attention on the upstairs landing. The final descent. There was nothing quite like it. Hers was as alive to her as if it had happened yesterday instead of nearly a year ago. Her heart started beating in an almost painful rhythm, matching Honey's in the hallway above perfectly. It was the official beginning, the commencement of a major moment in her life.

"Every moment of it is going to be caught on film," Mart noted, observing the photographer with a critical eye. The man was posed and obviously ready to start flashing.

"Just like your wedding," Dan joked back, dark eyes gleaming with good humor. "I almost went blind with the amount of photos you two demanded of your wedding party. I should have remembered my sunglasses for today."

"Honey wouldn't let you wear sunglasses," Mart snorted sardonically and released a loud laugh that drew an annoyed frown from Miss Trask. "Not even to cover up that ugly mug of yours."

One more whispered hush from Miss Trask prevented Dan from defending himself. There wasn't any more talk among the chattersome group but it wasn't because of the slight reprimand from the wedding planner. No, the woman who appeared on the landing caused a small, gasped hush of awed wonder from them all. More than a few tears glistened. Matthew immediately clasped his wife's hand while Madeleine sought the comfort of his closeness. Both hardly dared to believe that the charming vision coming towards them was their little girl.

Cheeks tinted a becoming rose because she knew she was going to be a victim of more than a set of avid attention aiming her way, Honey paused to regain her poise at the landing, unconsciously prolonging the moment. The photographer couldn't have been more pleased with her unintentional pause. He started clicking away and didn't stop. Ordering herself not to bite her bottom lip or make a small snack out of her lipstick which she prayed would make it through the ceremony, Honey started down the staircase, her steps slow and unhurried, following her mother's last-minute instructions to project an aura of tranquility and calmness she was not actually experiencing. One hand trailed regally along the smoothness of the banister while her fingertips held onto her skirt. The sunlight streaming in through a trio of windows caught the diamond in her engagement ring, made it shine in a series of tiny, radiant rainbows. She concentrated on each step, didn't take the time to look at any one waiting on her so she didn't catch the expressions or exclamations of surprise. She didn't resemble the Honey any of them knew. In her place was a sophisticated, elegant, and absolutely breathtaking princess. Little pins topped with crystals sparkled within her hair but weren't visible now, not with the wispy veil hiding them. Her matching ivory shoes peeped out through the bottom of her voluminous skirts. As if she was used to having her photograph snapped, and quite often, she didn't blink as the flash went off again and again but kept the smile on her face. Her blush darkened, the only sign that she wasn't as comfortable with it as the image that she projected.

The second her foot touched the bottom of the staircase, the spell was broken. The Bob-Whites didn't wait a single second before converging on her despite a laughing protest from Miss Trask that went completely unheeded or a few muttered oaths from Matthew, who desperately wanted to get to his daughter. Laughter and sniffles, smiles and tears abounded while Honey was hugged, tugged, and pulled into a few different directions until her father was finally able to seize her and pull her out of the throng. All was captured on film until Miss Trask let out a secret weapon she had used in her long-ago career in education. A long, sharp whistle cut piercingly through the air.

"Sorry," she said unabashedly when a deafening silence rang supreme. Tapping a sensible shoe on the floor, she explained needlessly, "We have a tight schedule and a lot to get done before the ceremony starts. Right now, we need Honey, her bridesmaids, and her family for the first round of photographs. I'd appreciate it if someone would let Brian know that we'll be in the formal living room with the door tightly closed. Now would be an excellent time to escort him towards the garden and out of Honey's sight. Make sure he understands that he'll have to stay there until the wedding starts."

"I'll do it!" Trixie immediately volunteered, more than willing to put off the dreaded photo ops, and choosing to overlook the fact that the bridesmaids were needed, too. Before Miss Trask could clarify that she meant for one of the many gentlemen within their midst to see Brian or any of them could offer to do it for her, she was off like a golden shot, moving much faster than the others had ever witnessed her move in heels, and was halfway down the hallway before anyone could do more than blink after her.

The quick burst of energy made her feel rejuvenated. She hated being stuck inside, was desperately in need of something to do that wasn't of the feminine variety. Curls bouncing, hips swaying, Trixie slowed her pace after eating up the carpet at a quick clip. Nearing the study, she lifted her hand and knocked lightly on the closed and usually imposing door. It wasn't imposing to her today, not when she knew fellow Beldens were housed inside. Without waiting to be invited in, she pushed it open and poked her blonde head in. Brian and her father stood at the window, looking out towards the garden, engaged in low, murmuring conversation. "What are you looking at?" Trixie inquired from behind, announcing her presence since neither one heard her knock or the door open.

They turned as one, both equally stunned to see her standing there. Peter drank the sight of her in, finding it hard to fathom that his beloved tomboy had turned into the poised, confident woman standing before them. "Trixie! My goodness. You're beautiful!" he breathed out and stopped himself, unwilling to expound on it further. He understood her well. Any other words of praise would only fall on deaf ears and embarrass his little girl.

"Wait until you see Honey," Trixie said with a quick wink at Brian and strolled her way into the room. "You're not going to believe your eyes. She is absolutely stunning." She closed the door with a smart snap and made her towards the window.

"A pretty good amount of guests are here. The early arrivals were invited to inspect the gardens," Peter answered since Brian seemed incapable of speech at the moment and was staring off into space with a far-away expression on his handsome face, most likely contemplating Honey in her wedding gown. "Obviously, no one's being seated yet. It's too soon. When the musicians start their prelude music in about forty-five minutes then it'll be time for the ushers to begin their duties and help the guests find their seats."

Trixie glanced around the room, for the first time realizing she hadn't seen her mother yet this morning. "Where's Moms? Is she here?" Her forehead crinkled in worry.

"She's outside seeing to any needs of the guests and making certain that everything is set up and running fine. Unfortunately, there was a slight mishap. A few flowers met with an untimely demise. She sent Bobby on an errand of dire importance," Peter explained, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. He had found the entire situation humorous. Helen had not. "Since Bobby has confiscated your car and it's already parked in, he had to race down to the farm to use his own car to go to the florist in town."

"What happened to the flowers?" Trixie stood on her tiptoes and peeked outside. Everything looked fine to her. Bright and beautiful. Vibrant and green. Vivid and colorful. A few people came and went through their line of vision. A sigh worked its way through her when she finally caught sight of her mother, standing near the guest book with Mrs. Lynch and her twin daughters. "I don't see any problems."

"You can thank Larry and Terry for this particular accident," Brian answered, chuckling at the antics of Bobby's closest friends that resulted in the mishap. From his position at the window he had witnessed it firsthand. "They were fooling around and knocked over one of the arrangements, one of the larger floral arrangements. In fact, it was an important one. They took out the one that sits right next to the guest book," he said, pointing out the missing arrangement that should have been right by their mother's elbow.

"Oh." Small white teeth tried to keep the laughter in but weren't successful. It rolled up and spilled out, only to mix with her father's and Brian's. Honey had a lot on her mind. She probably wouldn't care about a broken floral arrangement or even notice that one was missing. Miss Trask and Madeleine Wheeler on the other hand…her imagination wasn't strong enough to come up with their most likely reaction. They wouldn't be pleased at all. "Honey doesn't know about the accident. I'm sure she would have told us about it if she did."

"Helen took care of the problem herself. She tried to salvage it at first but couldn't. After throwing out the broken arrangement, she called the florist right away," Peter said, proud of the way his wife had taken control of the situation. "And sent Bobby off to fetch the new one."

"Moms didn't think Honey or Mrs. Wheeler needed the extra stress right now," Brian explained unnecessarily.

"Madeleine," Trixie corrected him immediately, gifting him with a playful grin. It felt great to tease her older brother. It didn't happen that much. "Remember, Brian. You're going to have to get used to calling her Madeleine. She's going to be your mother-in-law shortly."

Brian, her oldest brother, actually flushed before he continued, "She decided not to worry Honey, Miss Trask, or Madeleine about it. The florist had another similar arrangement but couldn't get it out here in time because they have another wedding to prepare for today. That's why Bobby was volunteered for the errand to retrieve it from the florist. We've been watching out for his return."

"Here he is. Finally," Peter mumbled under his breath, pointing to his youngest who was carrying the new, large basket filled to capacity with countless white roses and placed it on top of the stone pedestal where the other one had met its untimely demise. Whitney magically appeared at his side and helped him place the basket in the best possible spot. Peter shook his dark head. It was obvious that his youngest was head-over-heels in love with the lovely young woman and that the feeling was one hundred percent reciprocated. "Mission accomplished," he murmured quietly.

"And disaster averted," Brian said, breathing a sigh of relief. He wanted everything to go as perfectly perfect for Honey as possible. A broken floral arrangement was a simple fix, absolutely nothing to worry about it. Stepping back from the window, he walked towards the commanding, impressive desk of Matthew Wheeler. Once he reached it, he did a quick about-face and headed back in the same direction, unconsciously starting to pace the entire of length of the room.

Trixie and her father watched him complete a few rounds. "Do you think he realizes he's not getting anywhere?" she wondered aloud, watching her brother with a tiny, understanding smile traipsing across her lips.

"Not at all," Peter answered out of the corner of his mouth. The sight brought back long, almost-forgotten memories from his wait before his wedding to Helen. Set at Crabapple Farm with a much-smaller guest list, he still became a victim of nerves. Pacing had been his only weapon to counteract it. It was soothing to realize that Brian needed it, too.

Trixie shared a low chuckle with her father. "Brian," she called out finally, trying to get his attention. When he didn't respond, she spoke louder. "Brian."

"What?" Lifting his head, he paused in midstride and frowned, almost as if he had forgotten they were in the room with him.

"I didn't come to visit you. I'm actually here to let you know that it's okay for you to rejoin the land of the living or, in this case, the guests in the garden," Trixie quipped playfully, approaching him and throwing her arms around him in a sisterly embrace. "Honey is in the formal living room having her picture taken which means the path to the garden is safe for you right now, Brian. You can get there now without running into Honey or having her see you."

The need to pace left him as quickly as it had overtaken him. "It's time, isn't it?" Brian's grin grew, turned goofy while his eyes shone with an eagerness, highly anticipating the moment when he finally made Honey his, for the rest of their lives. He couldn't wait for it to happen. A picture of Honey taken after her high school graduation reclined on the desk. He picked it up, tenderly traced her face, and wished that the wedding was happening right now. It was proving impossibly hard to wait it out.

"Just about time." Trixie looked over at her brother, gently took the picture out of his hands, and gave him a helpful shove. "Get going, big brother. I probably have to report to the never-ending photo session myself before they send out a search party for me. You get yourself to the garden. We'll see you at the finish line." Standing on her tiptoes, she hugged him again and moved onto her father next.

Brian needed no further urging. He left the room with determined strides, his father at his side and Trixie two steps behind them. Her tread this time down the hallway was much slower. Pausing, she watched them turn off to the side and go out to the side door to the garden. "Lucky ducks," she mumbled to herself.

"Have you had enough yet, Trix? First you break all possible land records in your haste to get out of the room and now you're talking to yourself?" Dan widened his eyes in an attempt for innocent that he couldn't pull off, not with the devilish gleam shining through.

"Shut up," Trixie ordered, sticking her tongue out and making him laugh even harder. She hooked a thumb towards the correct room, "You know I'm on my way to get my picture taken right now."

"They're almost ready for the poses with Honey and the bridesmaids," Dan said, falling into step besides her. "Miss Trask had the photographer take the family shots first. Honey's posse is up next."

"Honey's posse?" The description made her chuckle. The thought of Honey Wheeler, an heiress to the Wheeler/Hart fortune, having her own posse was exceptionally amusing.

"Yeah." Dan reached out, opened the door to the formal living room for her, and bowed with a low flourish. "You're on deck. We men have been ordered to get out to the garden where another member of the photographic staff is going to start taking our pictures. So there's no need to worry or complain. It's not all one-sided."

"Thank goodness." One small wink and she was in the crowded room. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Bouquets were laid out on the coffee table, patiently awaiting their owners. Trixie bypassed them and watched the photographer reposition the Wheeler/Frayne family for their last set of pictures. She couldn't help but smile. The four of them looked so happy together. Two redheaded males; two women with soft, honey-colored hair. It would be tough to know that they weren't Jim's biological family. The bonds between them ran strong.

When the photographer finished, the men didn't waste any time before hurrying towards the door, more than ready to taste the fresh spring air outside. "Good luck," Jim whispered to Trixie on his way towards the door, well aware of the fact that she wasn't fond of having her picture taken either.

"It's for a good cause," she replied, barely resisting the urge to cringe at the next coming moments. Truly, it was for the best. She nodded over at Honey who was currently studying her beautiful bouquet and awaiting the next set of directions from the photographer. "Brian's outside now. It's the waiting game now for him, isn't it?"

"The pictures are going to keep Honey busy. She won't have too much time to think or to get nervous," Jim shared, correctly inferring the exact reason why their mother planned to have so many pictures taken ahead of time. He caught his father waving him out of the room and offered a hasty farewell, "See you soon, Trix."

Knowing that the pictures were being conducted to keep Honey's mind off the potential stress of the wedding made her feel much better about the entire ordeal. Smiling her farewell, she fell into place besides Di. The photo session wasn't going to be as difficult as she thought it would be. She went through it all without any problems, not complaining in the least as the same shot was taken from different angles, with different film, with or without bouquets. The little laughs and sighs coming from Honey made it all worthwhile.

Her prediction was right. It went by quickly. Although her facial muscles were amazingly sore from the amount of smiling required of her, Trixie wasn't as bored or stiff from the session as she originally expected to be. Holding her pretty bouquet made up of a single rose surrounded by lilies, all white, and tied together with a trailing gold ribbon, she followed the others towards the patio where they would make their entrance. Beautiful, soothing instrumental music floated on the spring air, telling the wedding party the time was finally here. Most of the guests were already seated. Low hums of excitement and anticipation came back to them, battling the music for supremacy. It was hard to tell which one came out the winner.

Honey gently stroked the petals of one of the many roses that made up her bouquet. No other flowers were allowed in hers. Only elegant white roses. Countless roses. She actually didn't know how many there were. To put it plainly, she didn't care. "Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. I can't believe it. It's time," she murmured under her breath while her ladies began to take their assigned spots. One hand fanned her suddenly warm face. "It's finally time," she said again, looking a little dazed and a lot excited. "I'm getting married!"

Looking extremely distinguished in his tux, Matthew came up besides his daughter after Jim arrived to take a teary-eyed Madeleine away from the group to seat her, one of the tell-tale signs that the ceremony was about to commence. He embraced her and said gruffly, only half-joking, "We could cancel everything if you want to, Honey. It wouldn't be a big deal."

A choked giggle escaped her bowed lips. "No, Daddy. I don't think we'll be doing that," Honey replied when she was able to formulate an answer, her eyes gleaming with merriment, exactly as her father intended.

"Sadly, that's what I thought you'd say." Matthew released an exaggerated sigh, not surprised in the least. You couldn't blame a father for trying, he thought to himself with a philosophical lift of his shoulders. When Miss Trask motioned for everyone to quiet down, he obediently followed her cue, a sight that would have surprised many of the people who worked with him. The thought of Matthew Wheeler taken orders from a woman who used to be in his employ would have astounded the business world of New York City and beyond.

The music changed. The conglomeration of bridesmaids started to thin out and make a straight and expectant line. First Courtney. Then Maya. Trixie stepped behind Di. Nervous fingers gripped her clutch of flowers and played with the long strip of gold satin that held the bunch together. The line slowly thinned out. When Di breezed through the French doors and walked towards the aisle, looking cool, comfortable, and absolutely regal, Trixie hurriedly turned and gave Honey a quick, hard hug. "I love you," she whispered and took her spot at the door, awaiting her cue before Honey could do more than mumble a reply.

The second Di hit the prearranged mark, Trixie started smiling and stepped out into the light for the first time all day. Even though she had seen and mentally estimated the amount of people coming to the wedding, she was still shocked by the amount of faces staring back at her. Many of them she didn't know; were members or acquaintances of the Hart/Wheeler family or business associates. Her smile grew after glimpsing visions of people she did know, who made her feel more comfortable than the startling amount of strangers to her.

Her attention focused at the end of the long aisle, to a string of handsome men, all who carried important parts in her life. First, there were her brothers, each and every one of them. From the slightly solemn-looking Brian who wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her, was looking beyond her to the front of the aisle and for the woman who would soon become his wife, to the love-struck Mart who couldn't take his eyes off of his own wife, to Bobby, who was smirking at her and trying hard not to laugh, obviously finding the whole experience of yet another large society wedding quite a lark. Then there was Dan, dark and handsome as always, with his trademark grin on his face. He stood tall, confident, and nodded in acknowledgement to her. Not surprisingly, she saved Jim for last. Right next to Brian, her partner for the wedding, and looking so handsome in his tuxedo that it caused an ache from somewhere deep within her. Shivers coursed along her back, right where his fingers had traced earlier in the day from his helpful assistance. It took an effort to keep her smile to stay in place, to not falter in her trek down the aisle, and she forced herself not to stare at Jim. If she did, she was afraid every single person in attendance would see the longing she had for him on her face. It felt like the longest walk of her life.

She finally made it to complete the row of bridesmaids and turned to face the assembled audience. "Don't forget to help Honey with her train," Di murmured through her bright, happy smile.

Trixie gave a small start. "Thanks," she whispered back, having already forgotten about that tiny and rather important detail. She laughed with the rest of the guests as the flower girl and ring-bearer practically raced each other down the aisle, their childish giggles battling the sedate music and causing their mother to look on with an expression of absolute dismay. She wasn't the only one who hoped that the rings were tied tightly to the satin pillow in Caleb's hands.

As soon as the race ended and Leah Delanoy was deemed the winner, the music changed yet again. The air became electric with anticipation. The entire conclave stood as one and turned in expectation to the beginning of the aisle. A princess, one who looked too heavenly to possibly tread upon something as ordinary as the simple earth underneath all their feet, began walking her way down the aisle laden with a generous assortment of flower petals, her arm safely tucked within her proud, beaming father's.

Breathing was impossible. Brian knew he had to be doing it, and successfully, too, since he hadn't passed out due to lack of oxygen and was still standing. His palms started to sweat while he wildly wondered why the hell she had ever chosen him. She was simply too damn beautiful. Then she was standing next to him, her smile bright and touching her hazel eyes, and his sudden attack of nerves evaporated into the gentle spring air. She was there, she was next to him, and they were going to begin their lives together. He could not ask for anything more.

A huge thank you to my sister, Pam and bundsbaby for making the story even better! Thanks, ladies!


	26. Chapter 26

**Separate Lives **

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Six

The music swelled into a loud, triumphant and extremely celebratory crescendo before cheers, whistles and thunderous applause filled the air, drowning it out. The entire audience smiled as the beaming Honey and Brian practically floated together down the aisle, hand-in-hand and joined together, committed to beginning the rest of their lives together. They didn't appear to notice the gathered group; were intent only on each other. Honey's series of delighted laughs could be heard over the music. More than a few tears were shed. It was obvious to all, even the more pragmatic ones, that they had witnessed a true and binding love match that afternoon.

A wide grin splitting his face, Jim took the six steps necessary to meet his partner at the altar and held out his arm, doing his best not to stare at her face. Her hand tentatively found its way into the crook of his arm. A tingling sensation started at the simple point of contact, made the emerald in his eyes more prominent and his heart stutter in response. With two hundred plus people watching them, many of them who were aware of the history between him and Trixie, he did his best to keep his features friendly and neutral. There wasn't any other option for him. He absolutely could not let anything else show. "It's our turn to start," he murmured, wishing for something wittier to say.

Her reply was a smile, light and joyful, while her hand rested on him. She could hardly fathom that she was actually touching him. Not only was she voluntarily touching him but there wasn't any sort of oddness or difficulty residing between them. No aura of stilted uneasiness encompassed them. It was comfortable and relaxed; simple and amiable. Almost as if the more turbulent years in their relationship hadn't occurred. Trixie refused to think about it, not now, not at this most jubilant moment. She couldn't. Today was all about Brian and Honey, not about the tangled jumble they had managed to turn their relationship into. They moved together in perfect harmony down the aisle, following in the footsteps of the elated bride and groom ahead of them. Her eyes sparkled. Her feet actually felt like they were floating on air, not traveling across a strip of white satin covering a hard garden path. "So beautiful," she murmured to Jim, unconsciously echoing the description she used many years ago to describe a much simpler but just as moving of a ceremony.

The edges of his lips curled up as the shared memory came back to him. They had been partnered up for his cousin's wedding. Now they were paired up for his sister's. Somehow, it seemed more than fitting. It seemed right. The shared experiences and memories they had together were important, to both of them, through the good and not-so-good years. He didn't look directly at her, only out of the corner of his eyes, but the image of her in profile was forever ingrained in his mind. It took a second for him to remember the need to respond. "Yes, it was."

He expertly led her to the end of the aisle and around the short bend in the garden path that would take them to their places in the receiving line. Once the wedding party was in place, the guests would start flowing out to greet each member before making it to the newlyweds. After that, they would collect the bags of birdseed to toss at the happy couple. The wedding party and the family members would stay behind. The guests would make their way to the country club where they could enjoy refreshments and an open bar before the wedding party arrived and the reception officially commenced.

A light breeze gently snagged at a curl. Moving by rote, she absently captured it back and turned to Brian, who held tightly onto Honey's hand. She saw the glint of plain platinum on his left ring finger. The ring Honey picked out for him was a perfect fit. Honey had shown them the ring the night before. Their initials and anniversary were engraved underneath it. "You were wonderful up there," she said to her big brother, emotion clogging her throat. A series of soft footsteps arrived on the other side of Jim. The rest of the wedding party was finishing the receiving line. Before they were bombarded by the myriad of guests, she stood on her tiptoes and hugged her big brother, swelling with pride for him and Honey. "You really were."

"It was easy," Brian answered, sliding a meaningful glance towards his wife. _His wife_. A gleam of wonderment touched his face. He doubted if he would ever be able to see anything but his wife ever again. Affected by the look and the tone of her husband, Honey blushed a pretty rose.

Trixie thoughtfully turned her head when the couple shared another soft, sweet kiss. Although she thought it was nice, she grimaced on general principle. After all, seeing any of her brothers kissing the loves of their lives was never high on her list of sights to see. "That's enough of that," she grumbled under her breath, barely resisting the urge to pull out her old stand-by and roll her eyes or stick out her tongue.

Jim offered a small snicker, feeling the same way. He didn't like watching his sister kiss anyone, even her husband. Automatically laying a hand at the small of her back, having no idea that he had done so, he turned her away from the couple to give them a modicum of privacy. She could focus on the others joining them instead. "We're almost all here. The guests will be coming out next."

Blue eyes widened up at him. She wasn't sure which she was dreading the most: the receiving line or the photo shoots. To her, it was a toss-up. Neither one sounded like fun. "There are so many people here. More than there were at Di's wedding. Do you know them all?" she asked in the hopes of overlooking an onslaught of nerves.

"A few," he replied quietly and inaccurately. He knew many of them, either through business or charity functions that he had attended in the past. Much like Trixie, he derived very little enjoyment out of those types of affairs. He put a good face on it, appeared to have a good time at them since it was the polite thing to do, but he spent a good portion of the time mentally reviewing notes for work or creating lists in his mind of other things he wished to accomplish. "Our mother didn't want to snub anyone so she included a lot of acquaintances on the guest list. I've run across a few of them at different functions I've had to go to."

Something in the tone of his voice was reflected in the expression on his face gave Trixie the correct feeling that the social requirements of his job or his family's place in society weren't high on his priorities. In fact, she had a strong hunch that he despised them, much as she would if she had to attend them. That small insight into Jim and his life touched her with awe. Tilting her head to the side, she stared up at him, her lips unconsciously parted. "You'll help me with any names, right?" she questioned, although it wasn't what she really wanted to say. What she really wanted to do was pepper him with questions about his experiences. The most important one was who he attended them with. Caught in the proverbial catch-22, there was simply no way her pride would allow her to voice that particular question.

"Don't worry. I'll be glad to help…if I remember them all," he tacked on, smiling slightly. Although gifted with a good memory, there was a strong chance that the extensive guest list could test it.

"It's time. It's time! The guests are coming!" Di announced breathlessly on the other side of Jim. Modestly preening, she smoothed a hand over her hair, tugged at her skirt, fiddled with her gold wrap and pointed towards Brian and Honey, who were oblivious to it all and only had lips for each other. Covering a mouth with an amused hand, she giggled gaily. "Should someone tell them or should we let them be?"

Trixie skirted a little closer to Jim, giving the couple an extremely wide berth, and tossed her head back. "I am not interrupting them," she declared forcefully, shuddering at the thought.

Mart arched a sarcastic eyebrow. Having no problems inserting himself into a private expression of affection in an extremely public place, especially when it was being done by his brother and the newest member to gain the name of Belden, he stepped out of line and gave Brian a not-so-gentle nudge to the shoulder, immediately breaking up the embrace. Ignoring the look of barely contained fury coming his way, he waggled his eyebrows and teasingly assured Brian, "Now, now, Dr. Belden. That's enough. You've got plenty of time for that later."

Being ruthlessly dragged back to earth when he was so close to heaven didn't make for a happy groom. Brian's dark eyebrows snapped together. About to respond, and probably not in the most positive of ways, the arrival of the first line of guests ended it. They started pouring down the garden path, excited and chattering, and obviously impatient to meet and congratulate the newlyweds. Choosing to ignore Mart and his less than subtle ways, he draped a reassuring arm over Honey's shoulder. One look at her made his recent flare of anger dissipate into thin air. The huge smile on his face was plastered on tightly, couldn't have been pried off with a jack-hammer. "It's starting, Honey," he whispered softly in her ear.

"I know!" Exhilaration, delight, elation and every other positive emotion possible emanated off her in nearly tangible waves. It encompassed all around her, made anyone close smile in immediate response. A hand clutched his arm. Leaning towards him, she announced serenely, "It's only going to get better, Brian."

Trixie heard his low chuckle but not his murmured response. It was heartwarming to observe her brother and her best friend so deliriously happy. Her gaze slid past Jim to land on her almost-twin and his wife. Just like they were. And just like her friends had planned, practically from the moment they had become Bob-Whites. It had never been heavily discussed with her during their early teenage years. It had definitely never been admitted to but all the girls had always known which of them had special feelings for the Bob-White of the opposite sex. Her smile lost a little of its shine. Things hadn't gone quite as well for her and the recipient of her special feelings. Pushing the nasty little epiphany off to the side, she focused on the guests. They started their obligatory trek down the line, and, thanks to Jim, she was able to catch most of their names and greet them appropriately.

About ten minutes later, her face began to ache from all the smiling and her throat grew dry from the greetings and polite, if slightly boring, conversations. A lull gratefully appeared before her, granting her a bit of a much-needed break. "Thank goodness," she said under her breath, wanting to stretch out her body but unable to do so without calling attention to herself. She settled for quietly slipping out of her shoes and letting her feet breathe the comfort of the hard ground underneath.

"It's been an experience," Jim mumbled back, in perfect agreement with her. In their combined yet unspoken agreement, he was ready to call it a day, too. Unfortunately, he couldn't. They still needed to greet half the guests. Wanting to get it over, needing to know why there was a sudden stop in the flow of guests, he glanced down the line and found the answer.

Trixie startled at his low groan. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm and stood on her tip-toes in a vain attempt to look over him. She wasn't successful. She couldn't make anything out. The added inch gained from slipping back into her shoes didn't help. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he assured her, amazed that she was willingly touching him on her own. Knowing she would drop the contact if he brought it up, he chose not to mention it. "It's only my mother's great-aunt. Aunt Adelaide. You've heard Honey talk about her before, right?"

"Adelaide Hart," Trixie repeated, rapidly searching her memory banks. It didn't take too long before she came up with a ton of small anecdotes Honey had shared with her over the years. "Very sweet, very kind, a little absent-minded and…"

"Always match-making," Jim finished for her, groaning again. "She's not totally happy unless everyone in the family is either engaged to be or already married. If they're not, she's more than happy to try and instigate a match in the hopes that an engagement or marriage will come out of it." He had been on the receiving end of more than a few attempts over the past few years. Not a one had met with success yet. From what he understood, Aunt Adelaide was none too pleased with that.

"I seem to remember that she kept forcing eligible young men Honey's way during our junior and senior year in high school," Trixie remembered, unaware that her hand was still resting on his bicep. She idly tapped a finger against it. "Honey wasn't very fond of it but she didn't have the heart to say no to her."

"She didn't want to hurt her feelings. Luckily, Aunt Adelaide backed off of Honey once she started dating Brian," he shared, pitching his voice lower so no one else could hear them. Once that happened, she tried to focus her attentions on Jim. Nothing ever worked, much to her chagrin. He may have attended a few charity functions with a suggested date, more to not hurt Adelaide Hart's feelings than for any other reason, but nothing stuck in spite of her continued efforts. Jim didn't have the heart to tell her he simply wasn't interested in any kind of a long-term relationship right now. "She's coming our way, Trix," he warned, his warm air brushing her bare neck.

A shiver started, coursed down her back and all the way to the tips of her toes. Her breath caught in her throat again. "Okay," she said, unaware of exactly what he had said to her. She finally dropped her hand from Jim. Needing something to do with her fingers, she resituated her wrap around her arms and glanced up at the boisterous voice greeting Jim.

"James!" a beaming lady of nearly seventy-five greeted him, light blue eyes swimming in a pale face reminiscent of an antique porcelain doll. Her snow white hair was pinned up high on her head and topped with a cute little bright blue hat, complete with feathers and a sparkling sapphire. Diamonds swam at her neck, dangled from her ears, and encircled her fingers. "Looking handsome as always, I see."

He lowered his head, gave her a chaste peek on the cheek, because he did truly love her even if she tried to drive him insane. "It's nice to see you again, Aunt Adelaide," he said, meaning it.

"Always a pleasure, James, always a pleasure." She pinked in delight at the kiss and focused her attention on the petite blonde next to her nephew. A few hurriedly whispered questions to the right people had given her the identity of the woman her nephew hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of during the ceremony, as well as a taste of the broken history that existed between them. To her eyes, it didn't look that broken anymore. A shrewdness entered her face, one which Trixie wouldn't have believed the elderly woman capable of experiencing. "And what an attractive partner you have," she declared, hoping to give Jim a gentle push in the right direction.

"Thank you," seemed to be the best, most appropriate response although Trixie finally understood what it felt to be stared at like she was a specimen under a microscope. Jim's Aunt Adelaide may appear to be absent-minded but there was quite a hidden depth to her. And Trixie didn't like the way she was staring at her, as if she had just uncovered every single secret she held about one James Winthrop Frayne II.

"She's beautiful, James. Very beautiful. From what I understand, you are a neighbor to Madeleine and James, aren't you, my dear?" She blinked innocently, already well-versed in the pertinent information of one Beatrix Belden. The most bothersome piece to her was the fact that the girl resided in California. Distance was quite the deterrent in beginning any potential relationship.

"My family lives down there, in the hollow." Trixie helpfully pointed in the direction of her house and blushed when Brian started chuckling besides her, obviously overhearing the entire conversation. Blushing, she recalled a few of his first encounters with Aunt Adelaide and remembered laughing at him.

"Good. Closeness in a family is important." She nodded her head imperiously and reached out to pinch Trixie's blushing cheek. "I already like you. You keep this handsome nephew of mine in line, all right?" Without waiting for a response, taking for granted that Trixie would do just that, she lifted her head and swept regally away like an expensive yacht cutting through the waters, confident that the matter was settled and that Trixie would take care of Jim.

A bewildered frown marred her forehead. "I…uh," Trixie stammered out, unable to formulate any kind of a response to the elderly woman who was in the process of greeting Brian and Honey. Mouth agape, she searched out Jim, who was trying not to laugh too hard at her or the astonished expression on her face.

It took a few seconds to regain control of his humor. "She kind of steamrolls over you," he explained once the laughter subsided. "That's her mood of operation. She says what she wants and, before you have a chance to confirm it or deny it, she rolls right away, leaving you baffled and bewildered. Somewhere in all that you've managed to agree to something you may not have really wanted to do."

"Umm…right." Finding it difficult to get over the fact that one of Jim's relatives had practically forced her into looking out for him, she could only murmur slightly unintelligible responses to the next few people coming through the line. Bemused, Trixie dutifully returned to shaking hands, offering hugs, and suffered through a few series of impersonal air kisses from many people she didn't know or want to know. Jim's knowledge continued to impress her when he thoughtfully introduced her to many of the Wheeler/Hart relatives and business associates. It didn't escape her notice that many of them aimed speculative looks in their direction.

It felt like forever for the receiving line to finally end. In reality, it only lasted about twenty-five minutes. Trixie had her answer, though. She much preferred posing for pictures over standing in an endless line. Breathing a large sigh of relief when the last guest strolled their way to the front lawn, she watched Di's twin sisters hurriedly arrive and push decorative bags of birdseed tied together with curling gold ribbon into their hands.

"Come on," Whitney urged the wedding party, tugging an extremely willing and grinning Bobby behind her. "We've got to join the group on the lawn if we want to get a good shot at the new Beldens!" Her cheery laughter floated back at them and, with Bobby in tow, bounced her way towards the front lawn where the guests had gathered for the tradition.

Trixie played with the curling ribbon. She pulled it out straight, watched it spring back, and fell into line behind the others. "Thank goodness the receiving line is over," she said under her breath.

"I'm in complete agreement with you." Dan tossed his small bag into the air, caught it, and tossed it up again. "It's probably my least favorite thing about being involved in a wedding. I can deal with the tux. I don't mind the wedding party dance. But the receiving line…" He ended it on a long, dramatic sigh. "Not my favorite thing at all." Although he had to admit that there were more than a few attractive and unattached women who went through the line. He contemplated a few of them now, already creating a few plans in his mind for the reception, a little grin on his face that made a few of those women sigh in response.

His immediate agreement helped chase away her frustrations, made her feel vindicated. "We're not the type of people to stand still for a long period of time, are we, Dan?"

He stopped studying the crowd, turned and focused completely on her. A secretive gleam entered his dark eyes. Leaning down, he whispered quietly, "Our jobs say a lot about us, Hollywood."

She blushed, catching the implication immediately. "Sh, sh," she ordered quietly, waving a hand to keep him from bringing the truth of her profession up again while they were essentially surrounded by many pairs of interested ears and eyes. "Not now, Dan."

In deference to the day, he let the subject go easier than she expected him to. Winking, he declared easily, going for the simplest conversational topic in the entire world and speaking little louder than necessary, in case anyone had overheard his whispered comment, "It looks like the weather held up beautifully today."

Trixie couldn't help it. She laughed, a deep pleased laugh that drew more than a few eyes her way. Dan had quite the understated sense of humor that managed to delight her…most of the time. "It certainly did," she answered, her giggles slowly subsiding. Noticing that most of the people around them already had their birdseed bags opened in gleeful anticipation, she tugged at the string until it finally came off.

Waiting for their cue from Miss Trask, Honey and Brian began their celebratory trek across the front lawn to the waiting limo while the guests assembled around them. An almost absurd amount of birdseed flew high into the sky, showering the laughing, euphoric couple. When the staid and proper limo driver closed the back door on them, blocking the couple from view, the cheers started up again, gaining more in volume. The gathered throng waved them off and the limo drove down the steep hill, taking the newlywed couple on a tour of the surrounding area of Sleepyside in a strategic move suggested by Miss Trask. It served a few purposes. Most importantly, it gave Brian and Honey some cherished moments together, a luxury they wouldn't experience much during the day. It also allowed the guests to leave the Manor House and travel to the country club in preparation for the reception. Last, it gave the photographer ample opportunity to cross off a few more much-needed poses and positions on his long list.

When the limo disappeared from view, Di made a small, sentimental sound deep in her throat. She resolutely blinked back a few tears and damned the hormones for making her into such a cauldron pot of emotions. "They're gone," she said, sounding a little lost and ready to dissolve into tears at any given moment.

Becoming used to her myriad of mood swings, Mart went with his old stand-by. "There's no need to cry, Di," he teased her gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "They're coming right back for pictures."

"Now I feel like crying," Dan interrupted, only half-joking. Not only did they both despise receiving lines, he and Trixie also shared the same feelings when it came to the mountain of photo ops that weddings required of them. In his mind, a photographer and a camera were instruments of torture. He could only stand still and smile for so long.

People started streaming towards the vehicles parked in nearly perfect precision on the line, thanks to the efficient helpers Miss Trask had hired to oversee the complicated parking issues. Trixie watched the guests start to leave, their excited voices traveling back to her. All of them seemed to have enjoyed the wedding and were clearly looking forward to the reception. The sight of a white-haired lady with a small bright blue hat perched on her head made her grin. Silently chuckling to herself over the impression Honey's Aunt Adelaide made on her, she slowly faded into the background, needing to have a few moments to herself before the next set of pictures. The tranquility was a necessity to help her hold onto her sanity.

Jim's forehead wrinkled. A sparkle of gold was all he saw in his line of vision before she rounded the side of the house and was gone from view. Curious about her defection, he mumbled something low and extremely garbled to Dan, who had been trying to engage him in a conversation. Absently waving him off, he broke away from the group and started cutting across the wide expanse of lawn between them.

Dan waited until Jim was a good ten feet away from them. Shaking his head, a roguish smirk on his face, he noted dryly, "Holy hell. Some things never change. If it wasn't for the fact that Brian and Honey just got married, we could all be back in high school again."

"What's that?" Mart resisted the urge to pull out the white rose that served as his boutonniere. Somehow, he knew that Miss Trask wouldn't be happy if one of the groomsmen was missing one. He settled instead for resting a hand on Di's back, his thumb absently tracing a series of invisible figure eights on it.

As she always did, Di leaned back into his welcome touch. Letting her wrap drape from one arm, she answered for Dan, a hint of humor to her voice, "Jim's following Trixie."

"He's not following. It's more like sniffing after," Dan corrected playfully.

"Really?" Mart drew out the two syllable word, making it sound much longer than it actually was. Intrigued, he whirled around, saw the tall redhead stride around the corner of the house and out of sight. He didn't need his journalistic instincts to kick in to know that his sister had recently blazed that same trail. Stroking his chin, he stated musingly, "Yeah. That seems about right."

"What do you mean?" His wife glanced up, confusion evident in her pretty violet eyes, while the wedding guests continued to disperse.

Mart laid his head on top of hers, a little amused and a little sad over the entire situation. He wrapped strong arms around her waist. "Jim's always aware of where Trixie is at any given moment when we're all together. But this is the first time in years that he's actually willingly followed her."

Dan considered the information. Deciding he liked it, he arched a dark eyebrow. "That truce of theirs is turning out to be a very good thing. They've come a long way already. Last Sunday they were barely speaking to each other and now…" His voice trailed off. There wasn't any need to discuss how much their relationship had changed in the span of one week. All of them were fascinated witnesses to it.

The ever-intuitive one of their group, Di pointed out the one glaring fault. She had to. She didn't want anyone to hold onto false hope. "But it's almost over," she murmured, causing both gentlemen to stare at her in open shock.

"What do you mean?" Mart frowned down at his wife, befuddled by her words. "I doubt they'll go back to the way things were before just because the wedding is over."

"No. Not that. I mean the week is almost over, not the truce," she explained gently. "Wedding week, as Trixie started to refer to it, is almost over. We only have the rest of the festivities to finish out today. Then think about it. What happens tomorrow?"

"We start to go our separate ways," Dan answered thoughtfully, beginning to see where Di was going with this. He was scheduled to head back to the city because tomorrow was his last official day of vacation. He had to report back in on Monday morning. Honey and Brian would be on their way to Antigua. Mart and Di wouldn't be leaving Sleepyside since they both lived there. But Jim and Trixie…

"Exactly." Di's tone should have been smug at pointing out the obvious but it wasn't. It made her feel too distressed. "Mart and I are having breakfast at the farm tomorrow. I know Trixie's supposed to be in Sleepyside for another week before she flies out to California but I'll be surprised if she makes it."

"She never makes it. She'll be called into work at some point," Mart muttered, his frown growing a bit darker. "With her track record, it'll be sooner rather than later."

Di nodded once, in complete agreement. All of them had learned to expect an early departure from Trixie. "That leaves Jim. Anyone know his plans? Is he staying in Sleepyside or going back to work right away?"

"It'll depend on his father," Dan decided after contemplating the answer. "And when Mr. Wheeler wants to get back to the company."

"So he'll be leaving us at the beginning of the week, too. Most likely on Monday." She shook her head, her pretty face lined with worry for her friends. "Which brings me right back to my original point. Jim and Trixie only have the here and now. Come Monday, or very soon after, they'll be back to their normal, and quite separate, lives."

The glaring truth of that statement couldn't be ignored. Dan stuck his hands in his pockets. "Looking on the bright side of things, at least they won't act like polite strangers around each other anymore when they do get together. Their truce will last, of that I have no doubt." But would they ever go beyond a truce? He didn't have an answer for that question.

Mart understood the exact point his wife was making. How could the ex-couple go any farther when thousands of miles existed between them? "Trixie's just going to have to move back home," he announced decidedly, nodding his head. It was the only possible solution...at least, the only solution that he could really support.

"We've been hoping for that for years and years," Di replied with a hopeless, helpless flutter of her eyes.

"Hey. We can all dream." Mart pressed a series of quick kisses on her forehead, wanting to make her giggle. It worked, better than he expected. He was rewarded with a wife who burrowed her head into his chest and sighed dreamily against him.

Out of the corner of his dark eyes, Dan saw Miss Trask and Madeleine Wheeler in a deep conversation. When he saw her flip open the ever-present notebook and point in their direction, he knew it was time for more pictures. "Guys," he said hurriedly, gesturing towards the plotting wedding planner and the mother of the bride. "We can at least help them out. Let's take a leaf from their book and disappear for the moment. We'll stay out of sight for as long as we can to give them some time before Miss Trask or Mrs. Wheeler demands us to get our pictures taken again."

Mart didn't need a second to mull over the suggestion. He liked it immediately. "Sounds like the best idea you've had in a long time," he declared jovially, clapping Dan on the back. In the spirit of their collective decision, the three started to stroll away from the rest of the wedding guests. It would be difficult to take pictures if most of the wedding party wasn't in the immediate vicinity.

Unaware that her departure had been duly noted by more than a few people, pathetically thankful to be away from the noisy throng of celebrants readying for the departure to the country club, Trixie walked up the steps to the side porch that led to the kitchen and slowly sank onto the porch swing, her face carefully controlled. It creaked softly underneath her. Slipping off first one shoe and then the other, she closed her eyes and set the swing in motion, her feet gently propelling her back and forth. The slow, rocking motion soothed her. A small smile curved her lips. The wedding had been absolutely, wonderfully perfect, exactly what Honey and her brother deserved. Now she simply wanted a few moments to herself.

A voice broke through, cutting into her thoughts and chasing away the peacefulness she had been desperately searching for. "You're very good at this," Jim observed from the middle of the porch steps.

One blue eye cracked open. One hand gripped the smooth wood of the armrest. One heart rate picked up, as it always did when in his presence. Shocked to have her bit of solitude intruded upon, stunned even more by the person doing the intruding, she willed her body to relax. Proud when her voice didn't waver, she questioned evenly, uncertain if she wanted to hear the answer, "Very good at what?"

"Disappearing." He took the last steps in one bound. Joining her on the porch, he leaned against the railing and watched the brief interplay of emotions flicker across her face. Confusion was the most evident.

"I don't know what you mean." Trixie cocked her head to the side, feeling at a decided disadvantage. He was standing. She was sitting. Worse, she was barefoot. Curling her toes against the worn boards of the floor, she stared down at them and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. What could he mean by that? She didn't want to know.

"Maybe disappearing isn't the right word. You don't always disappear." Another thought came over him. Maybe it had more truth to it than his first one. Thoughtfully, he tapped a finger against his chin, considered the new observation from all areas. "Maybe it's more like observing instead."

Observing. The word caught her full attention. The swing stopped moving. The confusion was gone. She didn't move a muscle, wondered how he could see so much into her. "Observing?" she repeated in a carefully controlled, neutral tone.

One edge of his mouth lifted. "I probably would have figured it out years ago if, well, if we were actually talking," he said, amazed he could find a small strain of humor during the painful years that existed between them. "Or if I wasn't doing the best I could do to avoid you."

The swing didn't offer any comfort now. She ignored the sound of vehicles starting up and a few shouted farewells from the front lawn. Trixie moved forward until she carefully perched on the edge of it. "We got pretty good at staying out of each other's way," she commented, thinking back to the years residing between the now and the summer of their break-up.

The other edge of his mouth curved, evening it out. "Trixie, we excelled at it. It probably drove the rest of the Bob-Whites nuts," he said, completely true and laughing slightly at the thought.

Because sitting down was proving to be a serious tactical error, Trixie slowly stood up. She was still inches smaller than him, and still regrettably in her bare feet, but being vertical made her regain more of her confidence. A horn beeped in the direction of the driveway. She absently lifted her hand, watched as Regan and Mr. Maypenny joined the line of cars disappearing down the steep hill. "The mass exodus has started," she remarked, hoping her observation would put an end to their current topic.

Jim didn't follow her lead. "We aren't talking about the wedding right now," he chided her gently, not allowing her to change the subject. "We're talking about you."

She refused to let her shoulders slump in defeat. Somehow it seemed that this vacation home wasn't going to be very restful or relaxing for her. People seemed to constantly want to poke holes at her. Her friends, her family, and now even Jim, the most surprising person of all. "I know," she blew out, a trace of frustration evident in her voice.

"I'll make it easy for you." Her answering groan made him chuckle again. "Something you do extremely well at is pulling yourself out of any kind of situation," Jim commented accurately, studying her shrewdly, his vision clear for the first time in years without any of the other stronger, messier emotions clouding it. He rested a hip on the railing, idly touched a leaf in a potted plant, and watched her intently out of the corner of his eyes. "You pull yourself away from the group, either figuratively or literally, and stop interacting. Basically, you choose to fade into the background and become an observer instead of a participant."

Trixie figured she could deny it but, since that would be lying and she had never been that successful at lying to Jim, decided against it. Playing with the chain, sending the porch swing swinging without anyone in it, she uttered in an aggrieved tone, "Yeah. I have gotten pretty good at it. No one's ever called me on the carpet for it, though. No one." The fact that he figured it out had to mean something of vital importance. She simply didn't want to put her finger on it. Not now.

"Trust me. I'm sure they've noticed, too," Jim assured her before sharing more of his insights. "Looking back, I can see that you do it all the time. Take yourself out of the situation, either by leaving the group, like you did today or last night at the rehearsal dinner, or step back from the group and simply watch. I can't put my finger on why, though." When she didn't offer an explanation, only looked at him with eyes impossibly clear and blue, he was left with no other option. He added voice to the question. He didn't have any alternative. He had to find out the answer. "Why do you do it?"

She moved a shoulder, stunned that he was the one to pick up on it. If anyone else had ever noticed her defense mechanism, and he seemed pretty certain that they had, they never called her on it, exactly as she had said. She tried to laugh it off but doubted if she'd be successful at it. Or, more accurately, if he'd let her be successful. "I don't know," she said when the air ate up her nervous chuckle. "Sometimes, I guess, it's just easier to blend into the background for me."

Pondering her answer, finding it a trifle unsatisfactory, he inquired insightfully, "Who's it easier for? You or the rest of us?"

The question drew her up short. She'd forgotten that he could be tenacious when trying to get an answer out of her, especially when it was something important. "I guess…me," she breathed out, astonished by her willingness to answer. It felt like laying a piece of her soul out for him, and only him, to see.

About to delve farther into her answer, they were interrupted by a dark-haired man with a perpetual smirk on his face. "So, it turns out we're two people short for the group shots," Dan joked loudly, breaking the intense stare the two were sharing. He ambled up the steps, joining the two, and immediately picked up on the emotions bouncing off the two of them. It drew him up short, almost made him plan a hasty departure. He hated to interrupt, especially when that something seemed extremely promising, but he had to do it. Miss Trask was waiting. Madeleine Wheeler was waiting. Both women did not like to wait. And both women formed a formidable duo when it came to Honey's wedding. If he didn't bring the two back and soon…well, he didn't want to think about the consequences. Rubbing his chin, he overlooked the fact that Jim was staring at him as if he wished a huge hole would open up and swallow him whole. On the other hand, Trixie seemed to be more grateful for his arrival. Wanting to break the thick tension, he glanced over them, tapped a hand on the railing, and wondered in a loud stage whisper, "I wonder where the missing duo could be."

Trixie grabbed her wrap from where it had fallen on the swing and breathed in a long, low breath of fresh spring air. Dan's instincts were correct. She was grateful for his arrival, almost pitifully so. "Are Brian and Honey back already?" She stared towards the driveway but couldn't see the limo and put her aching feet back into her shoes.

"Not yet. That's not stopping Miss Trask or your mother, Jim. They're both arranging some preliminary shots for us as we speak." He chose not to add that Mart, Di and himself had put off the inevitable as long as they possibly could. Judging from the two, they should have held out for a few minutes longer. "The plans are to add in the starring cast when they get back from their tour of Sleepyside. Miss Trask doesn't want to waste a single second of available time."

Holding onto her wrap with one hand, she picked up the bouquet with the other, and slowly walked down the steps, much against the way she usually bounded down them. In her mind, the halt to the interesting conversation couldn't have come at a better time. There was no way in hell she was ready to admit that there were times she felt like she didn't belong in Sleepyside anymore or that she had to keep up a thin wall between herself and her friends and family. It was necessary, a way for her to survive, and the only way she could make herself leave when the time came for her to depart. That damn time always came, too, no matter how much she wished it wouldn't. Reaching the bottom, she shaded her eyes and found Mart, Di and Miss Trask off in the distance, obviously waiting for the missing members. "They must be waiting for us."

"You think so?" Dan gave a short burst of sardonic laughter. "We have to meet at the altar first and get our partner pictures out of the way. Brian and Honey should be back from their quick tour around Sleepyside by then to finish the photo shoot." Because he knew it would grate on Jim's nerves, Dan grabbed Trixie's hand and pulled her forward. "We'd better hurry. Miss Trask runs a tight ship and she doesn't like to have anything divert her from her schedule."

A few days ago, Jim would have drowned in a vat of frustrated jealousy at Dan holding onto Trixie's hand. As it was now, the sight didn't bother him, not overly much. What bothered him more was the unsatisfactory end to their conversation. He wanted to know her answer. Choosing to be quiet, he rapidly reflected on what he had learned about Trixie. She actively chose to step back, to observe, to not always participate with the people she should feel the most comfortable around. Because it was easier for her. He could make a few suppositions, a few educated guesses, which were more than likely correct, but he wanted to hear it from her. Matching his strides to Dan's, he joined them in their lope across the side lawn and wondered if they would get the opportunity to finish their discussion at the reception. "We're off to the country club next, right?"

Surprised at the fact that Jim wasn't growling or planning to find a good place to dump his body, Dan merely grinned and let go of Trixie's hand. It wasn't fun to hold on when he wasn't getting any kind of a result from the other co-president. "Here's the agenda. Pictures, country club, the first dances and the reception. Once we finish the wedding party dance, it'll be smooth sailing for us. No more responsibilities. We can finally kick back and enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities."

It sounded good to Trixie. She hated being in the limelight, or anywhere close to the limelight, even when it was for an extremely good and loving cause. "Let's start smiling," she joked and pinned a bright one on. The three were quickly swallowed up by Miss Trask who grabbed them and almost forcefully led them to the altar where an exercise in photographic torture began…at least in Trixie's mind.

The individual shots of the wedding party and the partner shots were finished before Honey and Brian returned from their short drive through Sleepyside. Neither one had even taken a second to spare a glance out their window. Giggling, vivacious and blissful, Honey beamed her way through the next round of shots. Brian wasn't much better. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Then there were more pictures to take. So many different positions and repositions. As soon as they finished at the altar, the photographer traded in the setting for the other ones around the estate. Trixie felt like the Wheelers should have installed a revolving door, just for the pictures alone, and murmured such a thing to her mother as the group trooped through the gardens to another prearranged place.

"Smile," Helen advised her, draping a motherly arm around her shoulder and squeezing. She knew her daughter well. "That's all you've got to do. Just smile and think. We're going to have absolutely beautiful pictures when the photographer is finished with them."

Trixie returned her mother's hug. "You're right," she giggled back, resting her head briefly on her mother's shoulder and having no idea that one of the assistants caught the pose or that Jim was watching them, too. "Thanks, Moms. It was a beautiful wedding, wasn't it?"

"It suited them perfectly." Helen murmured truthfully. She thought back to her wedding day. A beautiful spring day, like today, only the setting was a little different. A lovely orchard alive with blossoms and a heavenly, flowery scent. A few guests, family members and friends. And a small reception, offered at the terrace of Crabapple Farm. It matched her vision of a wedding perfectly. "What about you, Trixie? Would you want all this?" She waved an airy hand to include all the trappings and finery of a society wedding.

Trixie bit back the sarcastic reply that she didn't see any possibility of a marriage for her anywhere close in the near future, not wanting to hurt her mother's feelings. "It's lovely and perfect for Honey and Brian, just like Mart's and Di's was a perfect fit for them." She shook her head, making her curls dance, before answering strongly, "But the answer is no. I wouldn't want something this fancy. Not at all."

Her daughter wouldn't. Trixie was much like her mother in that regards. "Good. That wouldn't be you!" Helen declared blithely, pleased with her daughter's answer.

Trixie's response was cut short by a sharp order from the photographer, demanding that all the bridesmaids position themselves around the bride in front of a picturesque stone fountain. "Duty calls," she mumbled to her mother, who smiled sympathetically back at her. Impulsively, remembering her unfinished conversation with Jim, she threw her arms around Helen for another fierce hug. "I love you, Moms. You're the best." Swiftly, she left to join the other smiling bridesmaids.

Helen watched her daughter leave, a position she found herself in way too many times to count over the past few years. A smart woman, she knew it would take something of earth-shattering importance to get her daughter to come back home and never leave again. Her attention immediately focused on Jim who stood apart from the rest of the groomsmen. She followed his gaze, was more than interested to see it land on her daughter. With an uncharacteristic shrewdness that matched his Aunt Adelaide's, she nodded once, coming to a startling conclusion. Finally, it seemed that she could lay all her money down on him. He'd better not let her down.

A huge thank you to my sister, Pam and bundsbaby for making the story even better! Thanks, ladies!


	27. Chapter 27

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Last night when she trespassed in the darkened room of the country club, it had promised a magical, romantic setting for the reception. Today, it wasn't merely living it up its promise. It was surpassing it. The main reason why was the lone couple in the middle of the dance floor, starting their first dance together as husband and wife; truly a magnificent sight to behold. The couple of the night floated across the floor, focused entirely on each other and seemingly oblivious to the avid audience eagerly watching their every move. It was a nice and simple routine, with a few dips and sways, to the charming and romantic words of _I Could Not Ask for More_. Trixie idly played with the soft linen cloth of the table, proud of her brother and her best friend.

She stiffened nervously when Jim approached her and sent up a quick inward prayer that he wasn't going to continue their conversation from earlier right now. If luck held out, she was hoping to avoid it altogether. To help that end, she took two steps closer to Di, intentionally gave Jim a bare shoulder, and gestured towards the dance floor. "They look amazing out there. I never knew that Brian was such a good dancer," she commented, astonished by her brother's surprising skill.

"Honey picked a perfect song, too." Di dabbed at her eyes, hastily blotting away a few tears. She didn't blame her pregnancy on the tears this time. No, it was the moving and romantic sight of Honey and Brian not only wrapped in each other's arms but so obviously in love, too. Working hard to control the tears, she shared, her voice wavering the tiniest of bits, "Honey's not normally a country music fan but I finally wore down her resistance last year when she was struggling to find the right song for their first dance. She couldn't decide because none of her choices felt right or, as the new Mrs. Belden would say, perfectly perfect. It took a lot of persuading before she finally let me play her this song on my iPod. When I did, she absolutely fell in love with it and immediately declared it her own. She's been a convert to country music ever since."

"You have excellent taste, Diana," Mart declared proudly and winked at his wife, placing a possessive arm around her. He aimed a grin towards the other wedding party members congregating around them. They were all scheduled to join the couple on the floor for the next dance as soon as the current one ended. His foot unconsciously tapped out the rhythm, always more than willing to dance with his lovely wife.

Di bloomed under the praise from her husband and hummed along with the moving words she knew by heart. "Oh," she exclaimed softly, clasping her hands together. "The song's halfway through. I'm so excited! We're up next!" Holding onto Mart's forearm, she jumped up and down elatedly, looking forward to their time in the spotlight.

Trixie stared up at the high ceiling, unable to feign any type of excitement. A huge chandelier dangled above, providing much of the lighting for the room, as well as a numerous set of circular recessed lights. She started to count them, to help calm her sudden anxiety over the upcoming dance. Lots of times in the past she had been nervous about performing, mostly because of that ill-fated trip off the stage during her brief stint as a dancing daffodil. Today, it wasn't the fact that she would be on display that made her nervous. No, that honor belonged to her dancing partner. She blew out a soft, gentle breath, finished counting the lights, and, when she looked back at the dance floor, felt marginally calmer. At least, she reasoned to herself, she felt ready to make it through the dance without dissolving into a puddle of nerves on the floor.

Through shrewd, emerald eyes, Jim didn't miss out on a single expression that crossed her face even though she clearly didn't want him, or anyone else, to see it, completely understanding that she would be disappointed to know that feelings were obvious. He didn't know if anyone else noticed nor did he particularly care. Leaning down, he quickly whispered in her ear, wanting to set her at ease, "It'll be fine, Trix. It's just a dance. Nothing to worry about at all. It will all be over before you know it."

A pool of surprised blue threatened to swallow her eyes whole. Two choices were available to her. She could either act indignant and play off that she wasn't feeling extremely comfortable right now or she could suck it up and admit it to him. While the first one appealed to her the most, it was the one that would let him down. "You're right. It's only a dance, one single dance," she whispered back, casting a sideways glance his way over her shoulder. "Besides, it's not like we've never danced together before, is it?"

She couldn't see the smile her answer brought. Pleased with the way she was rallying, he admitted evenly, choosing not to think about the many times they'd danced together in the past, "We've never had such a large audience before, though. That's something new for us."

"I'll give you that one." Trixie let her hands fall to her side. She hoped the smile pasted on her face passed for happy and carefree, not for the forced one she felt it to be. Breathing in, nice and slow, she let out the breath and slowly turned around to face her partner fully. The gentle light provided by the chandelier illuminated his features, highlighted the gold flecks in his eyes and made him even more desirable to her, as if that was even possible. Her voice came out, sounding hoarse and raspy to her own ears. "The song's over."

The last notes faded away. Honey and Brian came to a complete stop, right in the center of the dance floor, in perfect timing to the music. To the delight of all, they shared a soft, sweet kiss, earning more applause and cheers from the large amount of guests in the room. The unexpected moment was eagerly captured by many cameras and brought a few wistful murmurs with it. Then the announcer of the evening quickly took over and invited the members of the wedding party to arrive out on the dance floor for the next dance of the night.

Thanks to the overwhelming success of their truce, it hadn't bothered her to walk down the wedding aisle with him at her side. It hadn't bothered her to stand by him for rounds of numerous pictures. Leading the other couples out to the dance floor, with only the barest amount of space between them, and recognizing that they were about to be put on public display between beloved friends, family, and many nameless others was enough to bring back the recently abated nerves. Dancing with him was somehow different. More personal. More soft. More…intimate. Which was a crazy thing to think in a room filled to capacity. It didn't help that the last time they had danced together was at her prom or that they had quite an interesting unfinished conversation hanging over them.

As if cued by an invisible director, she obediently hit her mark and slowly turned around to face him. One quick glance at his face and her breath lodged in her throat. She chose to focus on a spot right over his shoulder, willing her heart to resemble a normal pace and not the breakneck speed it was now on. Not surprising her in the least, it didn't work, especially when Jim's long fingers covered her hand and his other one rested lightly at her waist. The warmth the gentle touches created was phenomenal, made her swallow a sharp gasp that he had to have heard. She had no choice but to respond in a similar manner. Her hand flexed under his while she tentatively brought her other one up to his shoulder. Because she couldn't put it off any longer, and because she didn't want to live up to her adolescent reputation as being slightly klutzy and clumsy while they were under such close scrutiny, she brought her eyes to his.

She didn't have to say anything. Vulnerability. It was painted out flawlessly for him, right there on her face. Jim was in complete agreement. This dance was proving to be much harder than anything they had already conquered together. And the music had only just started. They were the last couple to begin moving, a few steps behind the music. It didn't matter to him that many people were choosing to watch them over the other couples. It didn't matter that the photographer and his assistants were having yet another field day, getting as many possible shots as they could with their cameras of all the couples. The pleasantly uplifting music itself of _How Sweet It Is_ didn't penetrate. Neither did the presence of other laughing, happy couples swirling by and around them. It actually felt like they were completely and truly alone, a practically impossible thought, but there it was. His mouth tilted up slightly at the corners. He liked the thought of believing they were alone.

Those emerald eyes were going to slay her. She just knew it. So intent and looking straight at her, as if he truly could decipher every single secret she had contained within. Out of all of them there he had the best chance. Because, as much as she detested admitting it, he still had the ability to see right through her. He hadn't used it much over the years. It was probably rather rusty; definitely out of practice. But it was there, shining through that piercing gaze. She desperately knew she should say something. Anything would be fine. A comment about the wedding. A question about his work. A compliment on his dancing skills. Really, it didn't matter what she said. Unfortunately, she couldn't nail down a single thought to share with him. All she could do was meet his gaze, feel his hard body underneath her fingertips, and will her feet to match his perfect rhythm.

The song Brian picked for the wedding party dance was of normal length; nothing extraordinarily long or record-breaking in its pace. However, to Jim, it felt immeasurable, never-ending, in an almost blissful-like way. Almost blissful because, as much as he wished them to be alone, they weren't. He couldn't delude himself into thinking otherwise. Quiet murmurs of the guests, flashes of many cameras, glimpses of the other couples were caught by the edges of his senses, necessary reminders for him. He may not consciously focus on them but they were there, rather annoyingly so, to his frame of thinking. "It's okay to relax," he whispered to Trixie, a small smile playing across his lips, hoping to counteract the tension he felt in her body. "You've got nothing to worry about. The song's a nice one. I promise I'm not going to lead you in the wrong direction."

"I know," she replied lowly, the sound of his voice alone causing the fine hairs on the back of her neck to lift, but she tried to relax. For him or for her pride, of which she had more than her share, she couldn't quite tell.

"I also promise not to bring up our earlier conversation," he continued, guiding her around the floor without attempting any of the more sophisticated moves Mart and Di were showcasing to the amusement of the crowd. The faces in the audience blurred. When wary sapphire eyes snapped back to him, he realized he correctly hit on one of the main reasons behind her tension. "I promise," he repeated strongly.

If Jim promised, it was better than gold. It was an inherent part of him, always had been, always would be. Trixie's answering smile was bigger than it had been before. She didn't acknowledge what he promised, choosing to overlook it instead, and went for an amused response to make the mood light. "You've got it wrong. I'm not nervous. I'm concentrating on not tripping," she declared flippantly and winked at him, letting him know that she was joking.

Jim's eyebrows lifted before a low laugh emanated from amused lips, impressed with her ability to control her emotions. Much different from their teenage years together. His face lit up with approval. The stress he had shouldered vanished and he found himself simply enjoying the moment. For now, she was in his arms. They were dancing together. And he was determined to remember every remaining second of it. There wasn't any telling when it would happen again. Somehow, he knew it wouldn't happen again tonight. There wouldn't be another dance between him and Trixie Belden. "I promise I won't let you trip, either," he answered huskily.

Her lips couldn't formulate any kind of response. Looking up, unaware that their parents were focusing much harder on them than on the newlyweds, and one of them was not pleased at all, she couldn't tear her gaze away. Eyes locked, attention only on the other, she let him lead her through the rest of the song. When it came to a satisfying end, as all songs eventually do, the last thought in her mind was that she didn't want it to end. Judging from the expression on his face, he felt the same way.

More polite applause for the wedding party couples and then Honey was invited to dance the last of the official dances with her father. Trixie reluctantly stepped away from Jim. Her hands immediately felt empty, as if something precious had just slipped through them. Again. It was a feeling she vividly remembered, coming right after a heated argument on a stormy summer night. Her cheeks flushed red with the powerful force of the memory. Regret was momentarily exposed. She hastily whirled around in an effort to cloak it and followed the others towards the edge of the dance floor, finally ending up near Mart and Di. Desperately, she sought to regain control. By the time she lifted her head, she had succeeded although the control was more frail and fragile than she would have liked it to be.

"This is just plain marvelous," Di declared with a lovely sigh, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder and placing a hand on her husband's shoulder. Neither of them were aware of how often they touched each other through any given day. It was a simple need, easily seen to, and completed without any thought at all, a perfect extension of their feelings for each other. "Look at Honey and her father. He's so proud of her and Honey…well, I don't think she's stopped smiling all day."

"No. It's been a terrific day for her and for Brian," Mart replied cheerfully. "It's going to get better, too. The tough part's over for Honey and Brian. The nerves are completely gone by now and they can enjoy the rest of the evening."

"It's been everything Honey wanted it to be," Trixie murmured quietly to the couple, inserting herself into the conversation. "You were right to wait."

"Tomorrow morning!" Di sang out gleefully, tugging at her husband's arm, elated because it was almost time to share their news. Her face matched the chandelier in radiance. "Now that the wedding is over and the reception has begun, I can't hardly wait to get over to Crabapple Farm and share the news with your family. It's going to be an incredible experience."

"What news is that?" Jim queried, unable to stay away from Trixie. While the question was directed at Mart and Di, his attention was on her.

"News? Why, there's no news here, Master James," Mart quipped, his face giving him away with the blatant red flush spreading across it at an amazing clip.

Narrow white teeth chewed on her bottom lip. Trixie flinched, wondering if they would find out that she had unintentionally let the news slip to Jim during their ride together. She could only imagine the kind of ammunition that would give Mart in the coming months and gave a quick negative shake of her head.

Jim didn't have to glance at Trixie to realize she didn't want him to let on that he knew the exciting news. "Well, whether there is news or not, I'm sure it'll be great," he remarked neutrally and grinned when Honey came to a sudden halt before their mother. Laughing, she pulled her protesting but thrilled mother into the dance, making it a trio instead of a duo.

"Oh! How sweet!" Di immediately latched onto the sight, glad to have a distraction from the discussion about her news.

"It is." Trixie tried not to remember how it felt to have Jim's touch on her again, even in a formal and extremely public way. It didn't do much good, though. Her memory defeated her. It was too strong. She wrapped her arms around her body, needing something to do with them, and concentrated on the mother-father-daughter team out on the floor. Luckily for her, it provided a much-needed distraction from the man only a few feet away.

Moving with an almost cat-like grace, Bobby sidled up next to Trixie, startling her with a tap on the shoulder. She covered up a gasp with a small chuckle at her expense. Years ago, she would have been irritated with his unexpected arrival. Not now. Now she was grateful for it. "What is it, Bobby?" she asked, lifting a curious eyebrow.

"I have a favor to ask you." Smiling apologetically at Jim, he grabbed her elbow and drew her away from the group. Only Jim noticed their departure. Mart and Di were too busy whispering to each other. "It's nothing bad or illegal or anything like that," he immediately defended himself in response to the sisterly frown furrowing her upper forehead and stopped near a window.

Trixie smoothed out her face and rolled her eyes, remembering how it felt to be on the receiving end of an older sibling interrogation. It was never enjoyable. "Sorry about that, Bobby. I guess it's the big sister thing in me. I still feel like I have to watch out for you, you know. I sometimes forget that you're big enough to look out for yourself." The simple act of standing next to him made that point. Gifted with the tallness of the Belden genes, he towered over her petite Johnson frame.

He chuckled at the memories from his childhood, when it had been her assigned chore to look after him. She had done a rather decent job of it, too…when she wasn't off on one of her many adventures. He chose not to discuss her failings since he had a favor to ask. Taking his car keys out of his pocket, he jingled them in the air and handed them over to her, all without saying a word.

Puzzled, Trixie accepted them. It took half a second to note that they weren't the ones from the rental dealership. "These are your keys," she noted suspiciously, scowling at him. "They don't fit the Mustang."

"You're right. They're my keys." He took a deep breath and asked, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste to get them out, in much the same way she did when she was anxious, nervous, or overly excited, "Would you mind driving my car down from Manor House after the reception? I've already promised to take Whitney home. I'd rather do it in your car since your car is cooler and mine's stuck up there because of that damn disaster with the flowers. However, I'm going to need mine tomorrow because I have to leave to go back to school right after breakfast. I have an important paper that's due on Wednesday and I haven't done much work on it. Then, well, I'd much rather spend most of the evening with Whitney instead of worrying about retrieving my car and…"

She cut him off with an authoritative wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not a problem at all, Bobby. I'll be glad to get your car for you. I'll make sure someone drops me off at the Manor House when the reception's over." Thoughtfully, she stared down at the keys in her hand and offered them back. "Although you're going to have hold onto them until the end of the reception. I don't have a purse with me and my dress doesn't have any pockets. I'd only lose them if you give them to me now."

"Thanks, Trix!" he declared cheerfully and accepted the keys back with a return of his impish grin, back to his normal self. "I'll make sure you get them before me and Whitney leave the reception."

"Speaking of Whitney…"Trixie let her voice trail off and pointed across the room to where the pretty young woman was standing, ignoring her sister Brittney who was doing her best to engage her in some form of a conversation. "She hasn't stopped looking at you since you dragged me over here. I don't know why but I think she wants to see you." Trixie giggled as Bobby did a quick about-face.

"She does." He held up one finger, letting her know that he'd be there in a minute. Before leaving, he turned back to Trixie and whispered quietly, "I was proud of you out there, Trix. You and Jim handled yourselves well." Before she could respond, he was gone, dashing in and out of the partygoers on the way to his fair maiden.

"I'll echo those words," Dan said. From his position against the wall, he had witnessed everything the two had shared. Like Bobby, he thought that both Trixie and Jim had done a miraculous job, out there on the dance floor and during the entire week. With the history that existed between them, he would never have expected everything to go so well.

"Thanks," Trixie murmured, blushing hotly at the praise as she always. She held her hands up, warding off anything else. "I've got to tell you that I've had enough probes into my private life recently, thank you very much. Do you think we could overlook the need for another therapy session tonight? I'd really like to enjoy the rest of the reception in peace." She made her eyes as large as she could and even batted them a few times for good measure.

Attempting to use big puppy dog eyes on him gained her huge points in his book. Even though it didn't fit her well at all, not the way the move worked for Di or Honey, he readily agreed to her request. "No problem, Hollywood. Consider this matter dropped."

Her sigh of relief was exaggerated for dramatic effect. Playfully, she swiped her hand over her forehead. "Phew. I don't feel like being questioned or counseled again right now, Dan. I can't tell you much I appreciate it."

They shared twin grins. Dan pulled her back against the wall when the music finished to another thunderous round of applause and the announcer immediately opened the dance floor to the guests. "Stay with me for a bit," he whispered quietly, waving towards a few of their friends as they joined the growing group on the floor, his other hand loose at her waist. "You can act as my shield."

"Who are you trying to avoid?" Interested, she surveyed the crowd but couldn't find anyone suspicious. Bob-Whites, friends, family, and an entire conglomeration that made up the Wheeler/Hart side of the guest list. Nothing out of the ordinary to her, although she did have to smile when Honey's Aunt Adelaide sent a telling glare in her direction, most likely because she was talking with Dan and not her James.

"I'm just not in the mood to dance right now," he explained, shrugging a thoughtful shoulder. "You can help keep the legions of women away from me. You don't mind, right?"

"Legions of women?" She practically choked on a breath of air. Taking the time to survey the room again, she had a hard time keeping her lips from twitching. "I don't know what planet you're on, Mangan, but I don't see one lady here beating a path to your door right now, let alone a whole legion of them," she remarked dryly. "I think you'd survive with or without me."

He took the playful jibe in the spirit it was given. After all, she was a sister to him, whether they had any familial ties or not. "See? You just proved my point. Hollywood, you're doing a terrific job as my shield."

Once her quick burst of laughter faded, she aimed an inquisitive look his way. "All right. Something must be wrong if Daniel Mangan is deciding to blend into the background." A flag of red stained her cheeks because her words eerily echoed Jim's earlier ones about her. She forged on, ignoring the similarity. "What's going on, Dan?" Grateful for the chance to question someone else for a change, she arched an eyebrow. She was getting rather tired of having everyone under the sun wonder about her life and, even worse, browbeat her about it.

Dan crossed his arms over his chest, prepared to take the offensive. There was nothing quite like being on the receiving end of a Trixie Belden inquisition. Soft and gentle usually weren't her chosen weapons. No, she generally went straight for the jugular, obviously finding that approach more successful and lucrative than any other. Judging from the stubborn set of her chin to the flash of contained ire in her eyes, she had gotten much better at it over the years. Obviously, she wasn't going to let it go until he told her. "Maybe I'm feeling morose or something," he said with another careless shrug.

"Morose?" Trixie interrupted, a flair of surprise briefly flickering across her face. Frowning, she took the time to analyze his answer. Nothing was forthcoming. Wanting more, hoping to set him at ease and get more out of him, she noted, going for humor, "Quite a word choice there. Now I know you've been spending way too much time with that brother of mine."

"Nah. It's not that. You know I don't mind hanging out with Mart at all. I mean, you may have to nail down anything edible within a ten-mile radius when he's with you but it's worth it." He shook his head, thinking back to the conversation they had shared on the front lawn of the Manor House. "I guess this morose feeling overcame me when Mart, Di and me had a discussion right after Brian and Honey survived the attack by birdseed." He grinned at the description of the time-honored event of tossing rice, but now the politically correct birdseed, at the departing bride and groom. "You wouldn't know since you disappeared."

"And?" Trixie prompted when he stopped, not addressing her 'disappearance' at that time.

"Di stated the painfully obvious. She informed us that the week was nearly over. I find that crazy. It feels like it just started." A foot lightly scuffed at the floor. Melancholy didn't sit well on his broad shoulders. He definitely didn't appreciate the emotion or want to experience it. "Which means it's back to the city for me tomorrow and work, bright and early, on Monday morning."

"Ah." She nodded her head sagely, understanding perfectly. Her emotions ran a very similar gamut when it was time to leave Sleepyside behind. It happened every time. Pressing a hand to the wall, she moved closer. Her voice was whisper-soft when she asked, "It's not always easy to leave, is it, Dan?"

This time his smile was more nostalgic than anything else. "No, it's not. I always find it's harder to pack up and head out after all seven of us have been together for awhile. I prefer it that way, you know. In fact, I think all of us do." He let out a small sigh. Sometimes, getting older and having to deal with adult choices weren't always the easiest. As much as he adored the freedom of living on his own, there were times, like right now, when he would give just about anything to go back to what it used to be like, when all seven of them were in school together and Trixie was constantly involving them in different mysteries. "This vacation home right here has been one of the best I've had in a long time."

"I agree. It's been a good one." Reflecting back on the week made her feel more than a little morose herself. Family, friends, a truce with Jim that actually, surprisingly, worked, and a few startling secrets revealed. All part and parcel of a Bob-White wedding, she mused to herself. "A really good one. I can't say that I'm looking forward to flying back to San Diego, either."

"You're going to hate me for bringing this up since I just promised you to leave you alone but I've got to say it." Pitching his voice lower for her ears only, he shared lowly, "You and Jim are the ones responsible for making it such a good week for all of us. The tension between you is gone and every single one of us, Honey and Brian especially, were able to enjoy every moment of it. Good for you, Trix. I know it wasn't easy."

"No, it wasn't easy," she repeated strongly. Standing on tiptoes, she sought out Jim but couldn't find him right away. "It was definitely worth the effort, though. This past week has been one of my best trips home." Possibly ever, she thought and sighed when she finally found Jim dancing with a pretty woman. They both looked very happy and content together, a wonderful vision out there on the dance floor.

"I see it's his turn to dance with the bride now," Dan noted with a devilish grin.

"They look great together." And they did. There wasn't any biological connection between them and, yet, their connection was as strong as if they truly were brother and sister. Reluctantly, she turned her attention from them and pointed out the groom. "Brian's dancing with Moms now." Her aching feet nearly protested her next suggestion. It came through, loud and clear, in her tone. "Should we get out on the floor?"

His pained expression matched her feelings perfectly. Shaking his dark head, Dan answered decidedly, "Not yet, Trix. I'm content to stay and talk. What about you?"

"No desire to dance right now on my end, either. I'm happy to…observe." Her lips curved and an odd light sharpened the blue of her eyes. That term carried a different meaning for her now. And Jim, damn him, was more than right about her. She was more comfortable observing than participating. Irritated lines wrinkled her forehead.

Dan missed out on her preoccupation. His mind was elsewhere since he had something else to settle with her. Because their time together was dwindling, he wanted to get it settled now. "Since I don't know how much longer we'll have before someone inserts us into the mix or if we'll have another private moment, there's something I need to ask you." His tone suddenly turned serious.

She forgot about Jim, the conversation on the porch, and the character flaw of hers he was starting to figure out and had no qualms about questioning her on. "What's that, Dan?"

"Now that I know…well, now that I know," he stressed, not needing to clarify what he knew, and smiled reassuringly at her when she made fluttery shushing motions with her hands. "You've got to make sure you keep in touch with me as often as you can. Texts, emails, phone calls, smoke signals, those motions people used to do with those flags…I don't care how you do it but you've got to promise me you'll let me know where you are and if you're all right. You got it, Hollywood?" The teasing sound to his words was overshadowed by the worry evident in his dark eyes.

Recognizing the fact that it would be useless to explain that she highly trained, extremely competent, and considered one of the best agents in her chosen profession, plus she usually had a proficient back-up team surrounding her at any given moment, she settled instead for an understanding nod of her blonde head. He'd worry about her now, more than he ever did before. It would only frustrate him if she attempted to wave it away. And, since he was the only one that knew, he wouldn't be able to share his concerns with anyone else. The burden was entirely his. "No problem there, Dan. I promise you I'll do the best that I can. But don't get overly worried if you don't hear from me every now and then. You have to understand that sometimes I'm not allowed to get in contact with anyone, even outstanding DEA agents, all right?"

"Knowing you'll do your best is good enough for me." The worry would still be there, now that he understood the truth about her job. But he could handle it. When Trixie promised something, she did her very best to live up to it. He almost went in for a hug but a small group of beloved people were looking curiously in their direction, bringing a swift end to their private discussion. Brian, Honey, Di and Mart were studying them with interested expressions, most likely wondering why they were choosing to hold up the wall instead of joining them out on the floor. Offering her an arm, he remarked dryly, "I think our time is up, Trixie. We've been spotted."

She accepted it without a second thought. After aiming a bright smile at their friends, she found the lone missing Bob-White, who was currently whirling his mother around the floor. It may be small-minded of her but she was going to hate it the first time he danced with someone who wasn't related to him. There wasn't any room for petty jealousy tonight, though. She simply had no choice but to rise above it. Following Dan on a direct course to their friends, realizing that it was going to be the last time all of them were together for a long time to come, she whispered, "Well, let's join them, Dan, and make the most out of our last night together!"

**As always, thanks to three terrific ladies for helping me with the story! Pam, Joyce and my sister...you're the best ever!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mainly family and close friends remained in the reception hall. Most of the other guests had taken their cue from the bride and groom and departed shortly after they did. Already missing them, smiling slightly at the sweet memory of their departure and how happy they had looked, Trixie sent a long glance over the large room, taking it all in. It hadn't changed in size or in decoration, and yet now it somehow seemed smaller and less enchanting than it had when the reception first started. The gold of the ribbons seemed duller. The flowers weren't quite as lively or lovely. A few blooms were wilting and some petals now marred the ivory tablecloths. Gentle flames still flickered but had melted a good portion of each and every candle. The band played softer, less jumpier music. A few employees of the country club were beginning to quietly and efficiently clean up the tables on the outskirts of the room. She sighed to herself, a quiet, almost lost sound. Truly, the magic of the night must have resided with the presence of a deliriously jubilant Honey and Brian. No question about it. It wasn't the same without them.

Now that the most exciting parts of the day were finished and the time to leave for home was rapidly approaching, Di's body was crying out for some much-needed rest. Gratefully, she lowered herself down onto one of the chairs, thankful for the comfort of the soft padding, and didn't waste a second before swiftly slipping off her high heels. Her feet immediately groaned in response, freed from their captivity to fashion. Arching an eyebrow, she considered her husband who was off talking with his parents, most likely setting up a time for tomorrow's breakfast. A cunning smile curved her lips. He didn't know it yet but he was going to give her feet the best darn foot rub ever when they got home. Pleased with her decision, she nodded her head and focused on Trixie. "Are you sorry you didn't catch the bouquet?" she inquired, her face a portrait in innocence.

"Diana Belden! What kind of question is that?" Trixie chastised tartly, crinkling her nose at her giggling sister-in-law. Because she needed to do something, Trixie absently played with an unused linen napkin, folding it into tiny squares. During the bridal bouquet toss, she had intentionally kept to the background, having absolutely no desire to catch the darn thing. "I think the right person caught it." She gestured towards a beaming Whitney who had her face buried in the fragrant blossoms of the pretty toss bouquet. Honey had kept the real deal. In fact, her mother was in possession of the gorgeous creation, having promised the bride she would start drying it out the second she got home so Honey would have it preserved forever. "Your sister loves it."

"And Bobby loves the fact that he caught the garter." Di covered her mouth, violet eyes dancing mischievously. The youngest Belden had taken some serious heat from the male Bob-Whites, most noticeably Mart and Dan, but had shaken it off with an aura of unconcern since he had earned the pleasure of slipping it onto his girlfriend's leg. "However, I don't think our parents were ecstatic that they were the matching pair. They would have preferred another couple."

"You're right about that." Both sets of parents had worn identical shades of disbelief and an oh-my-goodness, my youngest couldn't already be thinking about getting married kind expression on their collective faces. Remembering it made Trixie laugh. Out of all of them, Mr. Lynch had been the most priceless. She had almost seen the price tags of yet another wedding flashing before his startled eyes.

Di dropped her chin into her hands. Slow, almost lethargic music filled the air, obviously letting the remaining people know that the reception was on its way to being well and truly over. A few stragglers ignored their pointed meaning and were still out on the dance floor, making the most out of the dwindling time. Di took her eyes off them. Curious, she pointed to the set of car keys at Trixie's elbow. "What are those, Trix?"

"They're Bobby's keys. He wants me to drive his car home," Trixie answered, tapping the key chain. "It got stuck up at Honey's house today during all the pre-wedding activities. You heard about the flower fiasco, right?"

"Oh, did I ever!" Di's lips quivered with barely suppressed mirth. Leaning across the table, she grabbed Trixie's hand and held on. "You should have heard my mother complaining about it earlier. She wasn't happy with Larry or Terry about that at all. They're lucky your mother was able to fix the problem so quickly. Otherwise…" Grinning, she made a slicing motion across her neck.

"I can imagine." Trixie chuckled again. Mrs. Lynch could be as formidable as Honey's mother when it came to societal functions. She'd heard enough stories over the years from both of her friends. She would have been very, very displeased with her sons for creating unnecessary havoc on such an important day. "Anyway, Bobby asked me to drive the car home. He's still using my rental, of course. I think he's probably planning on being out late tonight with Whitney."

Di shuddered at the thought of her youngest sister and Trixie's youngest brother hanging out late together. Her face reflected her sisterly horror. She didn't want to know what type of activities would be occupying their time. She'd rather like to imagine that all four of her younger siblings were youngsters instead of legal adults.

Trixie understood the emotions traipsing across her friend's face. "Believe me, I know how you feel," she muttered, wondering how her annoying, curly-haired brother could have grown up so quick. It both amazed and saddened her. While she had been a witness to a good portion of his life, she had been more of a visitor over the past few years. All by her choice, of course. It was stupid to feel recriminations about it now. But that's one thing the sentimentality of weddings allowed for, she thought with a small sigh. An introspective into one's own life choices. She hadn't been as bothered about it at Mart's wedding. This wedding was much different. And that difference lay firmly at Brian's new brother-in-law's door.

"Enough of this!" Di waved an imperious hand, bringing all thoughts of Bobby and Whitney to an end. An idea flittered in her mind, something that needed to be done. She slanted an appraising look Trixie's way and asked hesitatingly, "Well, if you're going back to the Manor House, would you mind doing another favor? This time for me?"

Trixie sat back in her chair, dimples winking in each cheek, lowering her voice so only Di could hear, "For the mother of my little niece or nephew, you'd better believe I'd do it. What do you need my help with, Mrs. Belden?"

"My stuff." Tapping a finger to her forehead, she admitted, rolling her eyes at her carelessness, a trait that seemed to be happening more and more often with her now, "Most importantly, my cell phone. Somehow, I managed to leave it at the house. I think it's in Honey's room. At least I hope it's in Honey's room. I can remember using it when we were getting ready this morning but I can't seem to recall where I put it. I know my overnight bag is still there, though. I can easily do without my bag, of course. But my cell phone…" She ended on a small, self-deprecating sigh.

"Is kind of important," Trixie finished for her and covered Di's hand reassuringly, agreeing to the chore without a second thought. "Don't worry, Di. I'll get it for you. You can pick it up when you come over to the farm tomorrow."

Having finished talking with his parents, Mart sauntered over to the table, whistling under his breath. The second he reached them, he pressed a quick kiss to Di's dark head and rubbed a hand over her back. "What's going on, ladies?" he asked, too tired to think of anything more complicated for his sister to interpret.

"Nothing much." Di gave him a sunny smile, all thoughts of exhaustion fleeing at the sound of his voice. His presence rejuvenated her. She patted a hand on his thigh and said, "Trixie is the best sister ever. She just offered to get my things from Honey's and she's also retrieving Bobby's car, too. Did you leave anything there? I bet she could pick it up for you, too."

"Nope. Everything I used last night is in the trunk of our car," he shared with remarkable good cheer. He had stuffed his clothes that morning, using the patented Belden-let's-just-toss-our-items-into-our-bag favored way of packing. The style worked well for all of the blondes in the family. Brian was the only one who was more meticulous with his things. No one else in their clan put as much detail into it as he did. Knowing Trixie had driven over with his parents, he wondered aloud, "How are you getting there, Trix?"

Trying to keep from laughing, Trixie replied jokingly, hooking a thumb towards Bobby and Whitney, "I suppose I could ask them to drop me off."

"They'd cheerfully kill you if you offered." Di chortled, imagining the looks on their faces if Trixie were to ask them. Bobby would want to wring her neck. Whitney would be more polite, of course, but she wouldn't be all that pleased either.

"True, true," Mart answered, stroking his chin and pretending to ponder the problem. "Well, it would be a little out of our way, since we live in the opposite direction of Glen Road but I suppose we could offer you our form of vehicular transportation this evening." He grunted lowly when Di hit him in the stomach, protesting his less than humble invitation.

"I'll take you up on it." Trixie pushed herself out of her chair and picked up Bobby's keys. "When do you want to leave?"

Di stretched and half-heartedly covered a wide yawn. "I'm starting to feel really tired. I don't know about either of you but I could happily curl up right here and fall right to sleep. I doubt it would take me long at all." Instantly, Mart pressed even closer to her side, ready to make sure that she really was okay.

"It's time to call it an evening." Mart looked down fondly at his wife who was having difficulty disguising another wide yawn.

"I'll go say my farewells." Trixie excused herself, ready to make the rounds. She approached her parents first who were in the middle of reminiscing about the wedding with Madeleine Wheeler and Miss Trask. Two people were noticeably absent from the small group. Matthew Wheeler and Jim were nowhere to be found. Her parents quickly embraced her. Madeleine surprised her by giving her a hug, too. Trixie wanted to ask about Jim's whereabouts but didn't, not with her father standing right next to them. It was on to Dan next who was talking with Mr. Maypenny and Regan. Another round of hugs and she hurried back to an impatiently waiting Mart and sleepy-looking Di.

"All right, slowpoke. It's time to go!" Mart announced, giving a careless wave to the others in the room. Together, the three left the reception hall, with Trixie sending out one last search for the missing Jim who still hadn't appeared. Giving in to the inevitable, she walked behind them and made it to the purple sedan, one of the last few remaining vehicles in the parking lot. Gallantly, Mart opened the door for his wife and hummed lightly as he rounded the hood. Once everyone was settled within, Mart started the car and drove to the Manor House.

Di kept up a steady stream of chatter during the car ride, dreamily recalling the entire wedding from start to finish. Trixie threw in a few comments here and there. Mart didn't say anything, only sent his wife loving looks out of the corner of his eyes. In no time at all they were driving up the steep hill to the Manor House. Trixie watched the building come into view. It loomed ahead, tall, regal, and impressive. A few lights burned, on the porch and inside the house, obviously there to welcome back the family members who resided within. She couldn't help but feel nostalgic herself when the idea that Honey wouldn't ever be calling the place home again hit her. Instead, her friend was now embarking on her first night in her new home, the one she shared with her husband. The Manor House was so quiet, looked so different from the home it had been only a few hours earlier. There wasn't much left to show that a beautiful wedding had taken place, one that would most certainly grace the society pages on the morrow.

After Mart pulled to a stop, Trixie perched on the edge of the seat, a hand at the ready on the door handle. "Thanks for the ride, guys. I appreciate it. What time are you planning on coming over in the morning?"

"As early as possible!" Di sang out, merrily ignoring Mart's loud and rather indignant groan of disappointment.

"Hopefully around nine." Mart arched a look at his wife, hoping he'd be able to sleep in, at least a little. Camping out on the floor of the cabin the night before had been fine, especially since he'd been able to enjoy the company of his brother and his friends. But the thought of his comfortable bed, with his gorgeous wife sleeping in it with him…that alone was pure heaven to him. He wanted to spend as much time as possibly in it. Slyly, giving her the necessary push, he suggested quietly, "A little extra sleep would do all three of us good."

Just like that, Di's face softened and glowed. "The three of us," she breathed out, adoring the description. Reverently, she patted her stomach and the little one growing within.

"Nine o'clock it is, then," Trixie declared, grinning at Mart in the rearview mirror. He knew his wife well. It amused her to know it. "Thanks again for the ride. I'll see you in the morning. I'm helping Moms make the breakfast," she shared, thinking back to their silly bet from the night before. Looking back, she should have known that Jim wouldn't be able to hold out against her father. Peter Belden could be quite intimidating when he chose to be. "And I've already been volunteered for clean-up, too."

"Excellent, squaw." Mart reached back and tugged a curl before Trixie batted his hand away. "You can work while the rest of us sit back and relax. Just like old times, sister dear."

Di chuckled lowly. "Thanks for getting my things, Trix. Everything but my cell phone should be in my overnight bag. Unfortunately, I'm not sure where my cell ended up." She fluttered her hands, laughing a little helplessly at her forgetfulness.

"No need to worry, Di. I'll find it." One shoe touched the blacktop. She climbed out carefully, being sure not to get caught up in the tangle of the long skirt of her dress. Competent hands smoothed it out. "Don't worry. You'll get it back tomorrow."

Mart honked the horn and slowly backed up. Trixie stayed on the pavement and waved good-bye to them. A pair of headlights cutting through the darkness brought a halt to her plans to follow the gravel path to the house. A puzzled frown lined her forehead. Wondering who could be returning home, knowing there were four possible candidates in all, three for the house and one for the apartment, she stepped back onto the grass wet with evening spring dew and waited to see who it was. Craning her neck, she watched as Mart's headlights momentarily caught the vehicle.

An SUV. Only one person here was the proud owner of one. Jim. Shaking her head, causing her curls to bounce, she toed the ground, undecided on how she felt about it. Elated or scared? Relieved or uncomfortable? Her emotions always seem to run such an odd gamut when they were together, especially now, after a week built on their promise of a truce. The week was over. The wedding was finished. It made her wonder what was in store for them next. "I guess I'm getting my wish," she mumbled under her breath. She'd wanted to say good-bye to him at the reception. Now she had her chance. Because she was essentially waiting on the doorstep to his house, Trixie stayed on the edge of the driveway while he parked his car, a small smile on her lips, and feeling more nervous than she had during their one and only dance of the evening.

Gold silhouetted against the deep purple of the night sky drew his immediate attention. He did a double-take, wondering if he was imagining things. After rubbing his eyes to make certain she wasn't a figment of his imagination, he was astonished to discover that she was actually there. Trixie. Waiting on the side of his driveway. Waiting to go into his house. Waiting…for him. Well, he reluctantly admitted to himself, maybe not exactly waiting for him but he decided to not dwell on it. For some unknown reason, she was here, at his house, and they were the only people present. It made up for the disappointment of discovering that she had already left the reception while his father was taking an urgent business call. Moving deliberately slow to mask his true feelings, he closed the car door with infinite care behind him and walked towards her, his hands hanging loose at his sides. A memory of another time when they were at the almost exact same spot flittered around his mind but he resolutely batted it away. That one hadn't ended well. She had stalked back to her house. Worse, he had let her go. Because it was better to leave it in the past, he refused to think about it. Casually, he took off his jacket, laid it over his arm, and approached her. "Hey, Trix. Are you spending the night again?"

A playful question. He asked her a playful question. It startled a low chuckle out of her. "No, not tonight. I'm running a few errands for some members of my growing family." She stopped her intense view of the house and tossed a look his way. The whiteness of his tux stood out against the night. For some reason it made her mouth go dry. Her mind recognized it was because of another spring evening, well in their past, where they had been similarly dressed and managed to find an extremely new and enjoyable way of passing the time together. Her eyebrows snapped together while she pushed aside the memory. Not now, not when they were suddenly and irrevocably alone. Not now, not when the moon bathed them in its soft, luminescent glow. Not now.

Having no clue about the direction of her thoughts or how powerless she was to stop them, Jim offered his lopsided grin. "Who are you helping out?"

She concentrated on breathing and pressed her hands tight against her thighs, finding the whole situation unbelievable. "Di asked me to get her bag," she answered without preamble. Inhaling the cool night air, she continued, the words came pouring out of her mouth, proof to how nervous she was, "She left it here this morning. I also need to find her cell and get my bag, too. You know, from last night. Bobby's car is also here. He gave me his keys because he wants me to drive his car home since he has my car. He's going to be heading back to school early tomorrow morning." She came to a tumbling stop, aware of how insane her explanation sounded, and bit her bottom lip.

One eyebrow cocked high at the tumultuous explosion of words coming his way. It so reminded him of their teenage years together. Excitement or nerves often got the better of her then, too. Hoping to put her at ease, he glanced off towards the lawn. Sure enough, there was one lone car left over from the wedding guests, waiting patiently in the long shadows of the house. He couldn't make out more than the shape of it but it was obviously Bobby's. "What's his car doing here?"

"You haven't heard about the mini-disaster?" Her laugh started to sound normal. Trixie ran a hand over her hair, totally missing out on the way he hungrily followed the motion. Talking about something concrete certainly helped her. "You know his best friends in the entire world, right? They were fooling around and knocked over one of the floral arrangements while we were getting ready for the wedding. Moms volunteered Bobby to run into town quick to get a new arrangement from the florist before the ceremony started. Hence, the leftover car."

Jim's face lit up with humor. "Ah. That explains it. It's a good thing my mother or Miss Trask didn't know about it." He could only imagine how they would have taken the news of a broken arrangement. With the stress of the wedding day, it wouldn't have been a pretty sight. He was thankful Helen Belden had been around to take control of the situation.

"Where are your parents?" Trixie craned her head, glanced down the driveway but no car appeared to suddenly interrupt their time together.

"Still at the country club. My mother wanted to unwind with your mother and Miss Trask. I think they're looking at some of the digital proofs from the photographer already." He shook his head. The women were still glowing from the success of the wedding. The fathers, on the other hand, had taken about as much as they could. When Jim left, both Matthew and Peter had found refuge at the bar where they were most likely commiserating about weddings, their children growing up, and getting older themselves, to the accompaniment of a shot or two of some hard liquor.

She rolled her eyes. Pictures. It seemed she couldn't get away from them. "I have a feeling we're going to be getting lots of emails soon," she remarked dryly, imagining the amount that would soon be crowding her inbox. But she wouldn't want it any other way.

"Just like after Mart's and Di's." Jim agreed although he had a sneaky suspicion he'd enjoy this set of pictures more. This time around he and Trixie were actually in a lot of them together. Better, they would be smiling in them. Because he wanted to touch the curls skimming her shoulders, he fisted his hand at his side. "I think I heard the head photographer promise to email Honey a preview, too."

"We should be able to hear her high-pitched shrieks of delight all the way here from Antigua," Trixie replied, only half-joking. She answered his smile with one of hers. Together, they lapsed into silence.

They stood for a moment, letting the stillness of the night settle around them. Their minds were on similar tracks, of Honey and Brian and the new life they were embarking on together. He cleared his throat, gestured towards the house and invited, "Well, let's start in, Trix. I'll be glad to walk you up to Honey's room."

Surprise danced across her overly expressive face. Dumbly, she nodded her head and slowly followed him inside the house. She told herself she shouldn't be surprised by his offer. After all, his room was directly across the hall from Honey's. The only sound was the crunching of their feet on the gravel, the porch boards creaking underneath, and the natural symphony created by the early spring insects. Trixie waited on the doorstep, lips curving slightly when Jim opened the door for her and motioned her inside the quiet house.

They may not have had that second dance but Jim was pathetically grateful to have a few extra moments alone with her. He automatically reached out, flicked on the light. Millions of threads of light radiated from the chandelier above. Looking back on the day, he realized they had been amazingly lucky. Somehow they had been able to get a significant amount of time together over the day, an amazing feat in itself. Time in Honey's bedroom, more time out on the porch, and now. Alone and together. Their unfinished conversation from earlier floated through his mind, made him curious to further her explanation. Slowing closing the door behind him, making sure to keep it unlocked for his parents' arrival, he tried to come up with a way to introduce it into the conversation. Nothing came to mind; nothing but the direct approach. Clearing his throat, he went with it. After all, it was all he had. "Dan found us at an inopportune time."

"What?" Trixie whirled around, glancing around the room to see if their dark-haired friend was skulking around in the house. Of course he wasn't. Understanding slowly dawned upon her face after his meaning sunk in, to be replaced with a gentle red blush. "Oh! Yes, he did," she murmured, much softer than she had before. She contemplated the floor and briefly wondered why the hell she was able to perform her job above and beyond the normal call of duty and yet, here in Sleepyside, she managed to resort back to her old ways. Every single time. It was extremely disheartening.

He didn't move, stayed right there in the main hall. "You were telling me why you like to pull back from us," he gently reminded her, granting her an assessing look, wondering how she would respond to it. "In fact, I seem to remember you were saying it was easier for you."

Her smile was as transparent as her desire to discontinue the conversation. "Yeah, well, it is," she replied, simply and hoping he would let it end there. Turning on her low heels, she started to the stairs.

With his longer stride he was able to pass her and beat her to the first step. He didn't feel an ounce of triumph as he stepped onto it. The extra height let him stare down at her even more. "Trixie," he said. Only one word, nothing more, nothing less.

"You're not going to let it go," she muttered, not needing a confirming nod from him. Knowing it was useless to resist, she blew out a breath, laid a hand on the knob of the railing, and suddenly found the floor to be of extreme interest. Her voice was whisper-soft. "It is easier for me if I'm more of an observer at times, as you said. I don't always like leaving. If I can hold a little bit of myself back, it makes everything easier all around."

The simple explanation soaked in, gave him more of an insight into her that he hadn't been expecting. His first response, one where he told her to stay, then, and not leave them, wasn't the most acceptable. He didn't have any right to make such a claim to her. Instead, he settled for an equally quiet, "I see."

Enough was enough. She was through with personal introspections, had had more than enough of them over the past week. Trixie cleared her throat, tossed back her head, and ended any further delves into her personal psyche with a wide smile that didn't reach her eyes. "So, should we be heading up to Honey's room or not?"

Just like that, she closed the subject between them. He recognized the tactic. He'd used it often enough himself. What she had given him in a few spoken sentences was more telling than an entire dissertation written by someone else. He'd remember it. "All right," he responded neutrally, willing to give in and let it go. Together, they started up the stairs, both striving hard for some modicum of comfort.

"Let's go." Her answering grin was filled with gratitude since he was willing to leave her answer where it was. Had he decided to pursue it, she didn't know what else she would have added to it. Everything always seemed to be better for her when she was in Sleepyside. Coming home was almost like taking that famed dip in the fountain of youth. Only for her, it didn't give her endless youth. It rejuvenated her spirit. When it came time to leave…it was always difficult, had never become easier even though she had years of practice at it.

They had traveled up and down the stairs together many times in their shared adolescent years. It was a unique feeling, ascending the staircase with the man by her side. Trixie threw a few cautious side glances his way, doing her best to make sure he didn't see them. As they reached the landing, she finally admitted to herself that the week couldn't have been a better one. And leaving this time would be the hardest of all.

Jim led the way down the hall, hoping he was successfully concealing his own interested looks from her sharp eyes. They reached Honey's closed bedroom door. Long fingers expertly turned the doorknob. "Here you go," he whispered and held the door open. Trixie mumbled her thanks and entered the darkened room. Threads of thin moonlight dappled the walls and the floor. She didn't say anything, merely watched as he began to quietly and competently gather the bags for her. Needing something to do besides ogling him at work, she hastily turned away and began blindly searching for the cell phone, thankful for the small chore. It took her mind off the undeniable fact that he was only a few feet away from her.

Jim bent down, picked up the purple bag first and dropped it at the foot of one of the beds. Trixie's followed next where it landed with a small thunk. About to tell her that the bags were ready, he glanced up. Any words were caught in his throat. Standing in a thin shaft of pale light, her face furrowed in concentration, she tempted him without endeavoring to. His jacket dropped from his hands, landed on top of the bed. His mind shut off.

"All right, Di. Where did you put that phone?" A hand on her hip, Trixie surveyed the room, trying desperately to remember where Di could have left her cell phone. Nothing came to mind. The only clear memory she had was of long fingers adeptly assisting her into her dress that morning, in this very room. Her back tingled. Small goose bumps formed. She fleetingly wondered what happened to her wrap. "Maybe I'll get the light," she mumbled, her voice low and embarrassingly raspy, hoping it would do more than help her find the cell phone. Maybe it would help shut down the track her mind was currently on.

The last thing he wanted was light. Not now. He liked the dark, the interplay of light and shadow as it gently fell over her. With the shimmery gold of the dress, the sparkle of sapphire at her ears and neck, he wasn't spoiling the vision she made with anything bright. She was illuminating enough. Luck happened to be with him. His long strides made it to the nightstand and grabbed the small electronic device before she had time to carry out her suggestion. "Here it is," he said, offering it to her with a smugly triumphant grin. It wasn't every day he got what he wanted. He was more than willing to appreciate it.

Smiling her appreciation, Trixie reached for it, still surrounded by the dark. Somewhere in the exchange their fingers brushed against each other. A simple touch, a small gasp of air, and she was defeated. Her breath caught in her throat, her knees threatened to buckle, and the blue darkened to a telling and much deeper cobalt. Stunned by the power of the simple contact of fingers gently scraping each other, she missed the phone. It fell with a loud clunk to the floor. Her stunned gasp of "Gleeps!" was much softer. Getting her favorite expression out proved difficult, much more than it should have been. Her hand dropped uselessly to her side while she prayed the darkness concealed her unquestionable response to him.

Jim was thankful it didn't. He couldn't come up with a single word to say. Not with her mouth open, her eyes centered on him, and the darkness pooling around her like an inviting halo. What was he to do? There wasn't any way he could ignore what he wanted to do, what his body was clamoring for him to finally, finally do. God, it had been too long. Much too long. His mind couldn't conjure up the last time. But his body…it could and it did. It knew what to do. Tentative fingers reached out, skimmed over the smooth, soft skin of her cheek bone. He felt it warm under his touch. All the while he watched her, waiting to see what she would do. Accept or reject. He thought he would die if she rejected him.

Rejection? Not a chance. Trixie's heart was pounding as rapidly as water moving swiftly off a mountain lake. Her chest rose and fell in the rhythm while the ease and comfort she had recently explained to her friends gleefully dissipated into the air, making a travesty of her earlier description. It certainly didn't fit anymore. Nothing between them was simple, could ever be simple. Nothing she was experiencing was easy. And there wasn't a single ounce of comfort residing anywhere around her. Not at this moment, not with him. Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out to wet them, unknowingly bringing his attention from her eyes to that inviting area.

They were alone. Right in the here, right in the now, and right where he wanted them to be. That was all that mattered to him. The separation, the years apart, the pain and the reasons for it, slipped beyond him, well out of reach, out of his mind, to inhabit that amazing resting spot where it simply didn't matter. Maybe it would later but, for now, all that mattered was her. Emerald eyes did nothing more than survey her face, drinking in the heightened coloring of her cheeks. A thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. Amazing him, she seemed as paralyzed by the astonishing moment as he was.

Trixie couldn't guess how long they were frozen, standing, staring, studying each other, with his hand resting against her cheek and a damn arms-length of air between them. How she wished the distance was less but she couldn't move to close it. Her legs wouldn't cooperate, felt as if they would collapse under her if she asked that of them. Almost as if he read her thoughts, he came forward, slowly and deliberately, giving her time to protest if she needed to. She was almost certain that she imagined it, dreamed it or was the victim of a wild, crazy, and absolutely delightful hallucination. But then his mouth was coming steadily closer and his hand was no longer caressing her face. Instead, she felt the firmness of it cupping her bare shoulder. Unaware that she stood on her tiptoes, silently inviting him further, she met his mouth without hesitating or a thought of a single objection. In fact, the second their lips touched, she unconsciously pressed her whole body against the full length of his.

Instant fire. Raging over every part of him. It was so familiar, almost as if the last time he kissed her had been yesterday and not somewhere in the not-forgotten past. He wanted to be gentle, to savor but he couldn't fight the need. It had been too long. His wants had no control over his desire, which was rushing through his blood. Strong, powerful, unquenchable. It made his hands grip her hips a little harder than he intended, made his breath catch almost painfully in his throat, made his mouth slash across hers in an effort to prove how much he wanted, how much he missed, how much she meant to him. Then his tongue dove past willing lips, met and mated with hers, and all thoughts were gone.

Her hands fisted at his sides, in the pure whiteness of his shirt, bunching the smooth material. A small purr of surprise was swallowed while she gave everything over. The inevitable aftermath of their kiss wasn't even an inkling on her horizon. All she could concentrate on was him and the delicious feelings his kiss was creating throughout her. Her eyes wouldn't stay open. She was afraid to open them; afraid that if she did, he would disappear and that it would only be yet another dream in a long chain of them. The touch of his hands gripping her hips helped dispel the fear, made her believe that he was right here, in her arms, and her mouth was busily working under his. Cautiously, she brought a hand up, traveled over the wideness of his back, to end up at his neck, while everything went a brilliantly hazy red behind her eyelids. All the while the kiss went on, with no thoughts of a break, no thoughts of the necessity to breathe, no thoughts of anything except for the darkly decadent passion sparking between them. Nothing was more necessary than the feelings they were experiencing together. Nothing.

Breathing hard, as if he had recently taken up her chosen choice of exercise and finished a long and grueling run, Jim reluctantly lifted his head, stunned that he could still taste her on his lips. He couldn't let go of her. Not when his weakness had been exploited so very, very enjoyably. There they were, in a darkened bedroom, together. His mind shut off minutes ago, maybe even since finding her alone on the front lawn. He didn't know. He definitely didn't care. Since words hadn't been very kind to them over the past few years, either on his side or hers, he pulled her back to him before the necessity for them became a reality. It wasn't much of a sacrifice, truth be told. He needed more of her.

Blue eyes fluttered open, watched the slow descent this time, and darkened with desire. She tightened her hold, felt his fingers leave her hips and move up her back to trace the skin revealed above the dress. She hoped, hoped, hoped he would do more than merely touch that damn zipper he skimmed over. She played with the red hair at the nape of his neck and more than willingly, quite eagerly, opened her mouth to him again. The second time was even more potent than the first. And she watched it all, saw the flush of red stain his cheeks and the intense expression he wore the entire time. It brought back many other, stronger memories, made the yearning for him so hard it nearly hurt.

When they broke apart for the second time, his body was fairly ordering him to do something about the desire that rode him hard, demanding more than yet another passionate embrace with her. At that moment he would have given anything to come up with something charming, funny, or intriguing to say. But he didn't possess a silver tongue and had to rely on his expression to get across everything he wanted to tell her. All he could get past his mouth were two words, simply yet hoarsely and spoken. "My room."

Words weren't part of her arsenal right now, were swimming around in her mind but couldn't be formed by lips numb from him. They weren't necessary, not when she could affirm or deny with a simple motion. She nodded without a second thought, not needing any clarification. He was asking for more than a mere stop by his bedroom. And she was more than ready to go with him. Trixie didn't realize she was still in his arms until they tightened around her in response, clearly reveling in her answer. Carefully, timidly, she lowered her head to his shoulder and let it rest there.

Such a simple gesture. It had more power than a million words. He didn't say anything, merely laid his head on top of the blonde curls. They stood a minute, two against the flickering light of the moon, while their hearts started to pick up on the same rhythm. When he couldn't take it much longer, he grabbed her elbow, began pulling her behind him on the way to his room, his longer stride eating up the carpet. He had the presence of mind to grab his jacket on the way out. He didn't spare a glance at her, knowing if he did they wouldn't make it to the sanctuary of his room. Oh, no. They wouldn't. His control was shot. Instead, he concentrated on the warmth of her skin under his fingertips, her fluttery whispery breaths, and allowed himself to imagine the ecstasy he'd make damn certain they'd find together in his bed.

Trixie couldn't think. She was running entirely on impulse right now. She hurried her steps to match his, trying not to look into anything but the present. Questions, possible regrets, the infamous what happens afterwards were all ruthlessly brushed under the expensive carpeting at their feet. She truly did not care. All that could be cheerfully pushed aside until later…much later, if she had her way. Risking a glance at him, she was taken aback by the amount of stark emotion displayed on his face. He usually wasn't that open with her, or with anyone, she realized on a blinding flash of insight. One thing was extremely clear. He wanted her, possibly as much as she wanted him.

She nearly slammed into him when he stopped suddenly, halfway across the hallway. Staring up at him with wide eyes, she catalogued the newest emotion slowly sweep over his face. Chagrin. Curious, she stared in the direction he appeared to be fascinated with and nearly groaned aloud herself, imagining the same emotion had to be reflected on hers. A set of voices could be heard, coming from the stairway. They were easy enough to identify. Matthew Wheeler's deep baritone voice, followed closely by a low giggle from his wife. Jim dropped his hand from her elbow and turned around to face her. From the closeness of the voices they had maybe a second to prepare before his parents found them.

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted less than a second later. "Madeleine, look who's here!" Matthew called out jovially the second he reached the second floor. The presence of Jim was expected. Trixie, on the other hand, wasn't. Pleased to have her there, the alcohol in his system making him unaware that she really shouldn't be there, he sauntered their way down the hall, missing the passionate cues flying around the two like bright, vibrant red flags. His slightly intoxicated mind only recognized the small smiles on their faces as friendly, not as forced. "It's Trixie. She's come back to visit us. Are you spending the night again?"

She choked on a breath of air. She had been, only with a much different roommate than she had the night before. Her face turned an absolutely furious red. "No, no. I had a few errands to do," she started to explain, not looking at Jim and cringing at the sound of her voice. Thick and foreign-sounding. She hastily cleared her throat and, stepping away from Jim in the hopes that putting some distance between her and the man who had stirred up a powerful desire within her, attempted a laugh that was supposed to be light-hearted. It came out as strangled instead. Clearing her throat again, feeling absolutely mortified, she added, "Di asked me to get her bag and her cell phone. Bobby wants me to get his car."

"Ah. I heard about that." Madeleine's pace was slower than her husband. She joined them, a welcoming smile on her face, but her sharp mind was whirling at a quicker rate of speed than a sports car traveling on the highway. She didn't miss nor miscalculate anything. The flushed looks on their faces, the fact that neither would look at the other, the jacket her son held in front of his body were extremely telling. Mix that in with the almost grim smile on Jim's face and Trixie's odd and obvious nervousness proved to her that something interesting had been going on between the two before their interruption. She was suddenly grateful for her wealth of social graces. Keeping her suspicions from showing, going for light to help the two of them out, she added cheerfully, "Bobby saved the day by getting the new arrangement."

Trixie nodded her head, unable to formulate any kind of a response. Her cheeks felt as if they were blazing, most likely the reddest they had ever been. Even though she was almost twenty-five, it was still pretty damn embarrassing to get caught by the parents of the man you were intending to become more intimate with. In their home, no less. She barely resisted the need to compare the ceiling and the floor. Instead, she forced herself to meet Madeleine's friendly gaze and breathed a silent sigh of relief. It didn't appear that she knew what had transpired between them. "He needs his car because he has to go back to school tomorrow. I'm also picking up a few of Di's things, too."

"I'm happy to say that the demise of the poor flower arrangement was the only mishap of the day." An expert at handling awkward social moments, and this was one of the most awkward ones she had ever had the displeasure of experiencing, Madeleine hoped to get the conversation on a nice, easy path, to help smooth things over for her son and for Trixie. Jim still hadn't spoken, was staring at a fascinating spot on the wall, and Trixie looked as if she wished she could drop off the face of the planet at any particular moment. Her tone gentled even more while Matthew continued to stupidly grin, completely oblivious to it all, "Honey had the time of her life. She's always going to remember her wedding day as one of the happiest of her life."

"She made a beautiful bride," Trixie said into a small moment of silence since someone in their group had to say something and neither of the men jumped in to help out.

"She certainly made me proud! That's quite a sister you've got there, Jim!" Matthew clapped his hand on Jim's back and laughed, a deep booming one that bounced off the wall. Jim managed a small grunt as an answer.

For the first time in her life, Trixie felt like she may actually metaphorically die, only not from curiosity or impatience. The cause of death on her certificate would be listed as mortification. There was nothing quite like it. She never wanted to experience it again. "It was nice to see you," she said into the air, not meeting anyone's eyes, and turned to Honey's room. As much as she hated to do it, there was an errand she needed to finish. "I'm going to get our things now."

"Here. Let me help you, Trixie," Matthew offered gallantly. He merrily threw open the door, flicked on the light, and motioned for her to go in first, throwing a grin over his shoulder at his wife, who merely rolled her eyes behind his back at his continued obtuseness. When he stumbled over the smoothness of the carpet, the doorway rose to help steady him. "Don't worry about it. I'll carry the bags out to the car for you."

Hysterical laughter threatened to overwhelm. Trixie swallowed back the small bubble, choked out an answering, "Okay." Left with no other option, she retraced her steps into the bedroom. She hesitated a moment when she reached the spot where Jim had kissed her. The promise of something more was still there, almost a tangible thing, as if the moonlight had captured it and held on to it. She gritted her teeth against the sweetness of the memory. There wasn't going to be any fulfillment now, not with his parents there. She reached down and picked up the cell phone from where it had fallen during the failed hand-off. "I found Di's cell."

"You're detective instincts are still amazing," Matthew noted, impressed by her quick find. "How you found the cell phone so fastly is beyond me."

Fastly. Realizing Matthew Wheeler's inebriated state was hampering his speech should have made her laugh. Instead, she smiled wanly at him and slipped the object into Di's bag. "Thanks for helping," she whispered quietly since her mother spent countless hours of drumming polite manners into her.

He picked up both bags and strolled back into the hallway, proud of himself when he didn't stumble this time. "I'll be back up in a few minutes, Maddie. I want to load these up for Trixie," he said, his words slightly garbled, and nodded at Jim. "Have a good night, son. See you in late in the morning."

Trixie risked one quick glance at Jim. In that moment, she found the same emotions reflected on his face that were on hers. "Good night," she whispered and, since she couldn't stay without telling his parents why she wanted to, turned on her low heels and followed behind Matthew, murmuring small comments at the appropriate times as he carried on a rambling and disjointed discussion about the wedding mainly by himself.

Madeleine waited until Matthew and Trixie were well out of sight, undecided on the correct path to take with her son. To address it or not to address it. That was her question. Closely, she watched him through thick lashes. The set lines on Jim's face gave her the answer. As much as it pained her mother's heart, she was going to leave it alone. "It shouldn't take them long to get to the car," she declared gently.

"No, it won't." His answer was clipped, purposefully didn't allow for any other form of conversation. Fingers gripped the jacket until the knuckles turned white. Taking such a step forward with Trixie had been gloriously wicked. Having his parents serve as an unknowing barrier to the more was just plain ludicrous. It made him want to bang his head off the wall. There was no guarantee if another chance would ever come their way.

Because he looked absolutely miserable, Madeleine took pity on him, deciding not to make him an unwilling participant in polite conversation. Judging from the look on his face, he didn't need it right now. "Take care, Jim. I'm planning on enjoying a nice leisurely morning tomorrow." She gifted him with a soft, understanding smile before she turned away and walked gracefully down the hallway towards her suite.

His quiet, dark room offered an immediate refuge, practically begged for him to enter it. The door closed behind him, harder than it needed to. He strode towards his window, ripped back the curtain, and watched the sight below him. A goddess in gold was standing with his father, obviously thanking him for his help with the bags. She climbed into the beat-up car, carefully rearranging her skirt as she did so, and closed the door behind her. While he couldn't hear the sound through the thick pane of glass, he was frustrated enough to equate it to the death knell of what should have been transpiring between them and would have been, if not for his parents. Gritting his teeth, he watched the red taillights of Bobby's car disappear down the driveway, didn't move until she was out of reach and gone from his sight.

The curtain fell back. Beyond frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, making the short red locks stick out in different directions. "I can't exactly call her back now," he grumbled to himself, ignoring his very first thought. "What the hell would I say? The coast is clear? Meet me at the clubhouse? Need you now?" His short bark of laughter held a bitter edge to it. Shaking his head, he cursed the changing course of fate. Somewhere, he knew, someone was laughing at the pair of them. Unfortunately, he truly did need her now. But it wasn't going to happen, not with the fact that their fledgling moment had been unintentionally destroyed.

Needing a distraction of the serious kind, he stomped over to his desk and sat down heavily. After flipping open his laptop and halfheartedly searching through his email from work, he had to admit that there wasn't anything holding his interest right now, not even a message flagged with high importance from their liaison to a company they dealt with in South America. Idly, he picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers, ignoring the computer screen. Burying himself in work was normally a successful way for him to channel any excess energies or thoughts into a more productive venue. Needless to say, it wasn't working right now. He couldn't make himself care. The edges of his chair skidded across the plastic covering protecting the carpet. He jumped out of it and paced around the confines of his room like a lion prowling its cage, almost imagining the walls of his spacious bedroom were beginning to close in on him.

Pacing the confined space didn't help, not when thoughts of a beautiful blonde responding temptingly to his kisses were uppermost in his mind. In fact, it only seemed to make the situation worse. He even picked up his cell phone, called up the cell number Honey had programmed in for him and he'd never been able to delete, and almost, almost, pressed the little green button that would send the call through. He ended up tossing the small inanimate object back on the dresser. Irritated with his inability to focus on anything but her, he aimed an annoyed glare around his room, pointedly ignoring the largest piece of furniture in it. He couldn't look at it without recalling everything that should be happening there right now. His trek brought him back to his desk. "This is driving me crazy," he grumbled under his breath.

Work clearly wasn't a possibility, not with the current state of his mind. Sleep wasn't an option, wasn't anything his revved up body was ready to attempt. Heavily, he sat back down on his desk chair and began rearranging the items on the top. At least it kept him occupied. The first drawer was next. Almost absently, he moved the objects around, making order out of an already established order. It didn't matter to him. All he needed was something to occupy a few minutes of time, no matter how boring or unnecessary the action. The second drawer was next. Without looking into it, he reached in. His fingers skimmed over something soft and…velvety? Wondering what it could be, he pulled it out of the drawer and hit pay dirt. Making love to Trixie was about the furthest thing from his mind. With eyebrows lifted, he flopped back into his chair and hesitantly flipped the box open. A plain and rather simple diamond ring stared back. It sparkled beautifully in the moonlight as if it was delighted to be free from its captivity to breathe fresh air.

Amazingly enough, he had managed to find a distraction that was strong enough to ward off Trixie and the intimate activities they had been so close to participating in together. He stared at the ring as if he had never seen it before. Reverently, he closed the box and placed it on the desktop. The envelope was next. One small word was scrawled across the top. His name. In her rather illegible handwriting. For the first time curiosity gripped him. It suddenly seemed of paramount importance to discover the contents. Inching forward, already losing an inward debate that never had a chance to form, he roughly tore the top off and pulled the lone piece of paper out.

The paper contained many old creases and folds to it, a testament to the fact that it hadn't been an easy one to write. The folds had flattened out but were quite visible, even years after its conception. Tensely, he smoothed the letter out, placed it on his desk, and expelled a large amount of air. It almost felt like a rubber band was attached from shoulder to shoulder, pulling a taut, tense line across his back. Ignoring the stiffness, he flicked on the small desk lamp. The comfortable glow brightened the words. Her words. Her last words to him before she moved away. His heart rate increased while he picked up the letter.

_Jim, (the letter ran)_

_Oh, woe. This is like the seventh time I've tried to write this out to you. Somehow I don't think I'm going to be all that successful this time around, either. I've never been great at putting words down on paper._

_There's no easy way to do this so I'm just going to do it. Here goes. I've decided to transfer out to California University. It's a great university out in San Diego. I was offered a full scholarship there a few days ago, and, well, I'm going to take it. It's offered a whole new set of opportunities for me, especially with Honey choosing not to go into criminal justice with me._

_To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about this choice. I know I'm acting okay about it but…honestly, I don't know if it's the right choice for me. Yeah, it's a good chance and it's a good change given everything that's happened, I guess, but it's not New York. It's not home. And it's so far away._

_Anyway, I'm off to California in the morning. Time will tell if I've made a good choice. My parents are supportive of it. Mart wasn't very happy about it but I think he's come around. Maybe. The rest of the Bob-Whites seem okay with it, too. I think. There's not much I'm certain of at this moment. All I know right now is that the only person who could change my mind is, well, you._

There wasn't a closing, only a hastily scribbled _Trixie _at the bottom of the page.

The last line leapt off the page at him. _All I know right now is that the only person who could change my mind is, well, you. _He stared at it, hard. The words danced gleefully before his eyes, ridiculing him, while he looked at the page until the black letters blurred with the plain white background. God, it gnawed away, taking away generous bits of his soul with each bite. She didn't ask him to come after her. She didn't ask him to call her. She didn't even ask him to understand her choice or to forgive her. She didn't ask anything of him at all, not really. It was the unspoken that got to him, that stuck icy little nails into his skin and wouldn't let go.

The note slipped from his fingers, to flutter back to the desk. Feeling more unsettled than before, Jim pushed himself off his chair, stalked over to the window and stared off towards the little hollow where her house was nestled. He lifted his hand, fanned his fingers out against it, and allowed himself the luxury of playing the 'what if' game. What would have happened if he had read the note when Honey first offered it to him, right after he discovered Trixie's change in plans?

To him, the answer was an embarrassing one. He knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, he wouldn't have been able to look into anything else but the overwhelming pain, anger, and desolation her decision to move away caused him. The letter wouldn't have lasted long; would probably have been balled up and thrown out minutes after he read it, an unwilling victim of his own temper, disappointment, and quite shattered heart at what he perceived to be as Trixie's rejection...even though he knew he had played an extremely important part in that choice. In fact, he, and their fights, had to have been the driving force behind it all.

A small inner voice inserted itself, insisted that first reaction would only have been his initial response. It would have lasted maybe a few days, maybe a week; possibly even an entire month because it had hurt so damn much. As he spun away from the window, serious lines of discontent carved into his face, he admitted the whole truth. He wouldn't have been able to ignore her hidden plea. The words alone would have hounded him, day and night, from the very second they'd been unveiled. Come hell or high water, he would have gone to California. And she would have come home. With him. Feeling like the biggest, stupidest fool to ever grace the face of the earth, the sound of a curse word he rarely used fell from his lips, its sound coarse and gravely in the silent room.

**Thank you, thank you, and thank you again to my sister, Joyce and Pam! I appreciate your help and input so much!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Separate Lives**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

After pulling on a dark gray sweatshirt, Trixie strode over to her bedroom window. A small smile tilted her lips. Another gray day, just like yesterday. It hadn't started raining yet. If luck held out she may be able to get her run in before it started up again. Not that she was counting on that. Her luck wasn't always the best. Arching an eyebrow at that loaded thought, she slipped into her sneakers and turned away. On the way to the door she grabbed her cell phone. Her hand hovered momentarily over her iPod before dropping back to her side. She didn't need music cluttering up her thoughts. There was too much to think about as it was. As usual, most of her thoughts centered around one James Winthrop Frayne II. Taking the steps two at a time, almost as if she was racing to get away from them, Trixie rushed downstairs, her ponytail swinging behind her with each sway of her body. "Hello, Moms!" she called out loudly before entering the kitchen.

Helen looked up from the stove where she was skillfully flipping pancakes made from her grandmother's recipe. It was nice to know that some things didn't change. Her daughter bounded into the kitchen with the same amount of energy as she used to. She almost expected her oldest sons to come in behind her, Brian at his characteristic sedate pace and Mart with a sarcastic comment. The fact that they didn't made her sigh. Helen had to remind herself that none of her sons were home at the moment. Brian was on his honeymoon, Mart was living with his charming wife, and Bobby had driven back to school yesterday. Her smile wasn't quite as cheerful as she'd like it to be. She was always the most happiest when her home was filled to overflowing. "Good morning, Trixie. Are you going out for your morning run?"

"Hmm…mmm," Trixie answered, giving the air an appreciative sniff. The smell of frying bacon coupled with the heavenly scent of brewing coffee was almost enough to make her skip her run. Her stomach rumbled in immediate response. There was nothing quite like a meal made by her mother. It certainly beat anything she ever tried to cook. "It won't take me too long, though."

"I'd offer you breakfast now but the thought of running on a full stomach doesn't seem all that appealing in the least." Helen expertly eyed the pancakes on the griddle, getting ready to turn them over at the correct moment. "I'll save you some for when you get back."

"Thanks, Moms. You're the best." Impulsively she threw her arms around her mother and held on tightly. There wouldn't be that many more opportunities to hug her mother. She wanted to make the most out of each one that she had left.

"Right back at you," Helen smiled into her daughter's curls, embracing her daughter extra hard, before letting go to see to the pancakes. "It's not a problem. After all, Mart isn't coming over today. I won't have to guard the food from him."

Giggling, Trixie stepped back from her mother and used the counter for balance as she started her morning stretches, knowing it was best to warm up her body before beginning any serious exercise. Pulling a muscle wasn't something she wanted to deal with in her line of work. "I'll be glad to clean up the kitchen today, though. I didn't exactly live up to my end of the bargain yesterday," she noted wryly. "Sorry about that."

Helen waved off the offer and apology with a quick flick of her hand. Her plain gold engagement ring glinted with the overhead lighting. No huge, ornate gem adorned it; only a small but beloved diamond solitaire that meant more to her than any other possible jewel ever could. "No worries, Trixie. I never mind working in the kitchen. You know that. And after the news Mart and Diana shared with us yesterday…" A dreamy smile touched her lips. A grandchild. Her first grandchild. She couldn't believe one was already there, only waiting the prerequisite amount of time before showing up. Her arms already ached to hold the joyous little bundle. "Well, I needed to keep my hands busy. I can't wait to meet our little baby."

"Me, neither." Trixie returned her mother's smile with a happy one of her own. Exactly as predicted, Mart made the announcement the second he and Di walked through the kitchen door. When her parents had regained the ability to speak, both had immediately converged on the expectant parents. Hugs, tears, squeals of delight, and laughter had all abounded. It had been a magnificent sight to witness and to be a part of. "In October. It seems so far away, Moms."

"It's only six months, Trixie. There is so much to get done between now and then. They need to fix up a nursery for the baby and they have to get all those wonderful baby gizmos and gadgets. I'll have to get in contact with her mother to help plan the baby shower, too. Oh, the time will go by fast. It won't be long at all." Helen beamed, a multitude off plans already running through her mind.

"You're right, Moms, as usual. It isn't that long. A lot can happen in six months." Trixie pulled back an elbow, lifted her arm over her head, and stretched it back.

Helen studied her daughter out of the corner of her eye. In her mind, there was only one dark spot on the news. Trixie didn't live in the same part of the country. Her voice was carefully controlled as she inquired carefully, praying for a positive answer, "Do you think you'll be able to make it home for the birth?"

"Moms, I wouldn't miss it for the world." Trixie's words rang with conviction. She would do everything possible to be there when the little one was born. She wasn't going to miss out on it, no matter what she had to do. Her fingers caught the edge of a manila envelope sitting on the counter. Curious, Trixie stopped her stretch and picked it up. It was addressed to her. Already privy to its contents, she stared at the clock on the wall and smirked. It wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning yet. Max was nothing if not efficient. He had told her he'd have someone deliver the new plane ticket as soon as possible. As usual, he definitely delivered. "When did this arrive?" she questioned quietly.

"About fifteen minutes ago." Helen swiped a hand over her hair, thankful she'd been dressed for the day and not in her pajamas and bathrobe. "I was starting to mix the batter when there was a knock on the door. It scared me a little. I'm not used to visitors this early in the morning. The courier made me sign for it, too." A puzzled look crossed her face. Most couriers generally delivered their letters and packages during normal working hours. Six-thirty in the morning definitely did not qualify as normal working hours in her book.

Trixie slipped out her new plane ticket, studied the date and time on it carefully, and tapped an absent finger on the worn but pristine counter. Two messages from Max had been waiting for her on her cell phone when she returned home on Saturday night, letting her know that she was needed in San Diego earlier than expected. She ran a finger over the new date. Wednesday. Shrugging a resigned shoulder, she was grateful to have at least that much time. Monday was only just beginning. Technically, she had two more full days in Sleepyside before it was time to say good-bye to the rest of her family and friends. A good many of the Bob-Whites were already gone. Brian, Honey, and Dan. The only one she didn't know the whereabouts of was Jim. Not surprising at all, she hadn't heard from him all day on Sunday. She hadn't exactly been eager herself to pick up the phone and call him. Determinedly she smoothed away the sudden wrinkles gathering on her forehead. "Thanks, Moms," she murmured softly.

"You'll be leaving us on Wednesday now, right?" Helen asked although she already knew the answer. Trixie made the announcement the day before, soon after Mart and Di left to share their fabulous news with her family. At Trixie's affirmative nod, she flipped the last pancake and declared briskly, refusing to acknowledge any hurt until after her daughter left, "That's not too bad, dear. We've had you for a full week and a half this time around. It's been a great vacation."

Oh, it had been. One of the best she could ever remember having in Sleepyside. And the reason why she was currently going running without the aid of her beloved music to motivate her. The recent memories would be enough to keep her mind occupied and focused. "I'll be back soon, Moms. I've got my phone if you need me." She pressed a quick kiss to her mother's check, offered a swift hug to her father as he strolled into the kitchen for his morning coffee and traditional Crabapple Farm breakfast, and bolted out the back door.

Thick clouds darkened the sky. The spring air held the smell of more rain to it. The breeze wasn't a comforting one; it carried an unseasonable nippy edge to it. Trixie skirted around a puddle, evidence of yesterday's unhappy weather, and started running at a slow clip down the long driveway. Leftover rain clung to the leaves, flowers, and grass, making everything more vibrant and vivid. Trixie didn't take the time to appreciate the bounty nature supplied before her. Too intent on her thoughts, she passed it by without a second glance, her eyes only on the road in front of her. By the time she reached Glen Road, she was ready to pick up the pace. Her ponytail swung out behind her, streaming like a merry blonde flag.

She kept to the side of the quiet country road, her sneakered feet pounding out a steady beat underneath her, while a car or two passed her every now and then. Glen Road was never a hotbed of activity. Seven o'clock on a Monday morning didn't make it any busier. In direct contrast to the traffic, or lack thereof, her thoughts worked as fast as her feet. Using the quietness of the time, the comfortable steadiness of the beat, she recalled the wonderful week behind her. It had been truly memorable, ranging from her surprise welcome home Sunday evening to the breakfast yesterday at Crabapple Farm. She ticked off the positives in her mind. Honey had the wedding of her dreams. Di was starting down the path of the next phase in her life. All three of her brothers were deliriously happy with the women in their lives. Dan seemed happy with his life. Although…Trixie slowed down as a light bulb gradually flickered on, the corners of her mouth pulling down. They had spent an awful lot of time talking about her, not so much discussing him. She wondered if he was as enamored with his job as he seemed to be. Definitely something to ponder.

Of course, all thoughts invariably led back to Jim, as they generally did with her. He was the main reason why this vacation had been such an unforgettable one. All based on a simple yet effective truce, crafted together because they shared the same wealth of love for Honey and Brian. And it had led to the most astonishing moment of all. Her fingers gently touched her lips, almost as if she could still feel the pressure of his against hers. It was the reason why she wasn't sleeping as well as she should, why there were purple smudges residing under her eyes. How could she, when she knew what it felt like to be in Jim's arms again? She still wasn't sure if she should be grateful or annoyed with the untimely intrusion of Jim's parents. In the bright light of day, becoming intimate with Jim didn't seem like the very best of ideas, especially when she was flying back to California, or, more accurately, when they were both preparing to leave Sleepyside to resume their normal yet extremely separate lives. During the night was a much different story. She'd suffered through two already filled with tossing and turning and wasn't looking forward to a third one. There was absolutely no one to talk it out with, either. Honey wasn't available, Di would be going to work soon and was in total new mommy mode, and the idea of bringing it up with her own mother simply wasn't the most tempting. Regrettably, she was on her own on this one.

After reaching the halfway point in her run, Trixie gratefully turned around and started pounding back towards Glen Road, her pace as even as ever. The first small fat drop of rain hit her in the face, making her chuckle. Running in the rain didn't bother her. It never had. She only hoped it didn't become torrential before she made it home. Judging from the thickening clouds, she may not get her wish. Starting to run faster, she brushed back the sweat beading on her forehead and tried not to stare at Mr. Lynch's store as it blurred past. She never liked looking at the place even though it was no longer owned by Mr. Lytell. One too many bad memories were associated with it. She expelled a sigh of relief when it disappeared from sight and continued on down the familiar territory of Glen Road, closing in on her destination. She gave a sniff of the air, almost imagining her mother's delicious breakfast.

Rounding the corner, the overgrown and dilapidated driveway for Ten Acres came into view, proving that her run was nearly finished. Her driveway wasn't that far away. Dodging a puddle, she glanced up when the unmistakable hum of a vehicle filled the air. Only the sound wasn't coming from the road. It was coming from the driveway. Trixie came to an abrupt and complete stop right at the edge of the driveway, her heart racing fast. The acceleration had nothing to do with her preferred choice of morning exercise. Taking a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to fortify her, she realized with trepidation that the time was here. Whether she understood how she was feeling or not didn't matter anymore. Jim was there, right in front of her, and looking at her through the glass of his window.

She had one hell of an uncanny ability to materialize out of nowhere. It always seemed to happen when he was thinking of her. She had done it at his house on Saturday night. Now she was doing it again. He wondered if it was a plot to slowly and effectively drive him crazy. If it was, it was definitely working. There she was, standing a few inches from his rundown and decaying driveway, and looking as breathtaking to him in dark gray running shorts and sweatshirt as she had in her shimmery, unforgettable bridesmaid dress. Taking the time to make certain he put his car in park, Jim shut off the engine and opened the door, using the precious seconds to help gather his thoughts. His feet hit the ground and, after painting on what he hoped was a cool, calm and collected expression, slowly walked towards her, his hands in his pockets and absolutely no idea on how to start their conversation. Seriously, he thought with an inward chuckle steeped in sarcasm aimed entirely at himself, he was going to have to do better than this.

Determined to pull off light and easy if it killed her, which it most certainly could do, Trixie called on her training, using everything she'd learned in her career as a CDA agent to assist her with the unexpected meeting. She could do it, she insisted quietly. She could. With a cheerful wave of the wrist she blocked off the depth of her emotions and smiled brightly up at him. Only a small, telling flicker in the deep blue of her eyes gave her away. "Good morning, Jim," she said, proud when her voice came out strong and normal without a trace of a wobble or waver to it.

"Good morning, Trixie." The sound of her voice was as effective as solid punch to his gut. He kept his hands in his pockets, afraid if he took them out he wouldn't be able to control them. Bravely trying for some levity to break the unacknowledged tenseness gripping them both, he remarked with an arched look at the sky, his lips curving into a semblance of his lopsided grin. "You picked a good time to go out for a run."

"I know." She let out a low laugh that caused shivers to course up his back and held out a hand. As if on cue another raindrop fell right into it. She wiped it off on her sweatshirt. "The rain's not too bad right now, though. It only started a few minutes ago. Plus, home isn't that far away. I should be able to make it there before it gets too bad."

"Do you want a ride? I can give you one, if you want." It was meant as a polite, neighborly suggestion. Hooking a thumb towards his car, he didn't realize he was doing the impossible. He, Jim Frayne, was volunteering to drive up to Crabapple Farm, a place he hadn't set foot on since that summer she moved away. In his mind, Belden property had been completely off limits to him, just like she had been.

"Thanks for the offer, Jim, but that would kind of defeat the purpose. I need to finish out the run," Trixie answered, smoothing a hand over her hair which was curling more exuberantly than normal. The combination of sweat and weather was too much for her to combat. She didn't notice how mesmerized he was by the simple action, how his gaze followed her every move. Desperately striving for normal, Trixie was relieved to formulate the next question. "What are you doing out and about so early this morning?"

Early? It didn't feel too early to him, not since he hadn't had a single good night's sleep for the past few nights. Saturday night had been spent in an extended version of his own pure hell. Regrets and unresolved sexual tension hadn't made for the most peaceful of bedfellows. No, he would much rather have had her there instead. Sunday wasn't much better. He didn't know if he should blame it entirely on their kiss or the contents of that letter. Either way, he doubted if he would have any satisfying rest for a long time to come. It took a minute for her question and a need for him to answer to register. "Coffee," he answered belatedly. Two earth-friendly containers, size extra-large, were waiting in his car, one for him and one for his father. His was already half-finished. The caffeine was a welcome boost to his system but paled in comparison to actually seeing her. "Dad asked me to pick one up from Mr. Lynch's store. You know how much he loves the coffee there. We're driving back into the city this morning."

Now she knew his plans. It took a huge effort but her smile stayed in place. "You're leaving today?" The right amount of curiosity was intoned and hid the quick spurt of disappointment spearing through her. Of course he was going back, she chided herself, feeling like the classic dumb cluck. She thought she was prepared for it but the sinking feeling in her stomach proved how wrong she was. This time he was going first.

"There's a slight problem with one of our South American ventures. Only Dad can handle it and he needs my legal advice. We have a meeting set up for one o'clock this afternoon so we have a little time to play with this morning but not much. He wants to be in the office well before the meeting starts." Jim shook his head. He wasn't looking forward to it. The meeting promised to be an extremely lengthy one. A 'slight' problem was putting it mildly. The venture was in one hell of a mess, quite possibly costing the company a significant amount of money if it wasn't solved in the correct way. Matthew Wheeler absolutely despised messes and wouldn't let anyone rest until they were resolved.

"You'll get it settled. I have no doubt about that." Trixie hastily swiped away the sweat beading on her forehead. Pulling off casual and relaxed around him was hard enough to begin with. When she figured in her red and perspiring face, it was even more difficult. Since she didn't have the bravery to bring up the issue lying between them, she pointed in the direction of his inherited plot of land and rocked back on her heels, unable to stand completely still. "What were you doing up at Ten Acres?"

"I wanted to stop by before we headed out," he answered with a shrug. Ten Acres was a favored place for him to brood which was becoming a specialty of his. So much had happened to him there over the years. All of it seemed to begin and end with the woman standing in front of him. The realization caused a frown to settle.

"That's right. You're going to be breaking ground soon." She looked up the driveway, missed the disconcerted expression cross over his face. The image of a log cabin floated before her eyes. While the house certainly suited him, she couldn't help but be saddened over the home that should have graced the place. A big blue farmhouse. If wishes were horses…she ruthlessly reminded herself. It was harder to keep her smile in place but somehow she persevered. There would be time for personal regrets later. Desperate to ward off her thoughts, she questioned, "Will you be overseeing a lot of the building?"

Jim ignored the slight increase in the rain. It was only falling intermittently; wasn't a hindrance yet by any stretch. Besides, he barely felt it landing on his shoulders, was more content to concentrate on her. With his time of departure rapidly approaching, he was definitely willing to spend a few extra minutes with her. "It'll be hard but I'll do what I can. I may have to flex some time at work. My dad's okay with that. It'll be worth it." Closing his mouth, he wondered why they were talking about such boring, mundane things. There was so much more that should be said between them and, yet, he had no idea how to open either of the subjects up.

The same affliction hit her. Having no clue how to bring up the failed romantic interlude between them, Trixie continued along on the easy and polite route. "Honey and Brian are on their honeymoon. Dan drove back to the city yesterday. You're leaving today and I'm flying back to San Diego on Wednesday," she shared, her fingers tapping against a knee, the only outward sign that she was more nervous than she was letting on. "That only leaves Mart and Di here to hold down the home front until the newlyweds return."

He lifted his head, startled. She was supposed to have another full week at home. "Did you get called in early?"

Her ponytail danced with her nod. She put her hands on her hips, unconsciously causing her sweatshirt to stretch across her torso. "Yeah. Max called me and said that he needed me back earlier than expected. There were two messages waiting for me from him when I got home on Saturday night."

And there it was. Innocently brought up but powerful in the extreme. Jim saw the exact moment she realized what she said. Her big blue eyes became even larger and the smile she had kept on her face momentarily stumbled off before she resolutely pasted it back on. But it wasn't as bright as it had been and it didn't come close to reaching her eyes. She couldn't fool him. It was the only sign he could find that she wasn't as comfortable as she appeared to be. "Right. Saturday," he mumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. Their Saturday night together had been a major highlight for him.

There was only four feet of dirt, tufts of wild grass, and a few loose stones between them. However, it may as well have been a mile over impassable rocky terrain. She didn't know how to bridge it; neither did he. Choosing to ignore the big issue between them, she shook her head until her curls bounced wildly around her face and started speaking, her face becoming redder with each passing second, "I hadn't looked at my cell since Friday morning. Max called sometime during the rehearsal and again on Saturday afternoon. He said it wasn't urgent so I didn't call him back until yesterday. That's when he told me about the change in plans." Her words came out fast, almost quicker than her mind could think them. Anything, anything to get them out of her mouth before he mentioned their brief interlude together.

It didn't matter how fast or slow or how simple or complicated her speech was. He couldn't get past the word _Saturday_ and what almost transpired between them. The need to talk to her, to find out what she thought about it, flourished and grew. Dark green eyes rounded back at her, leveled on her and wouldn't let go. Taking the figurative plunge, he began, "About Saturday…"

Her head snapped back so fast she was surprised she didn't have whiplash. All composure slipped, right before his very eyes. She went pale under her flushed face. Stunned by his decision not to ignore it, her eyes immediately slid to his lips and then slid away, to become trapped in the emerald green again. "Yes?" she croaked out, feeling like an adolescent again and absolutely hating it.

Jim's fingers were itching to reach for her, to caress her face in a carbon copy move from that night. He balled them up, pressed them hard to his sides to keep them still. "I don't know about you but I could have cheerfully murdered my parents," he declared, the closest he could get to sharing what he wanted most.

Dark amusement danced briefly across her face. Of all the things she expected him to say that was the very least. She almost took a step forward but caught herself in time "If you'd wanted to, I would have been right there with you," she admitted faintly, regret for what could have happened as obvious as the burgeoning signs of spring sprouting up all around them.

Her softly whispered answer delighted him, made his grin slowly grow and spread. He couldn't get over it. She hated the interruption, too. It was like balm to a continuous ache on his soul. Taking in a deep breath, he figured now was the time to go even farther and opened up another subject between them. He watched her closely, needing to see her reaction to his small confession. He had to know how she felt about it. "After my father escorted you to the car, I read your letter."

"Letter? What letter?" What did a letter and an interrupted clandestine meeting of the passionate kind have to do with each other? Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him through impossibly clear eyes, completely confused and totally in the dark on this one. It didn't make a lick of sense to her. She couldn't remember sending him a letter. Forget letters. She never used the simplest modes of communication with him, like a text or an email. What was he talking about? Her forehead wrinkled in confusion as she tried in vain to puzzle it out.

"Your letter," he repeated more forcefully. When it still didn't penetrate the thick haze of confusion surrounding her brain, understanding that no more clarification would be needed once he added the next words, Jim continued, "You remember, Trixie. It was the one you wrote me a few summers ago."

An instantaneous flash of insight, as sharp as the next drop of rain to hit her on the face. Trixie covered a sharp gasp of surprise with her hand and stammered out, "Oh! Yes. Right. That letter." He read the letter? She couldn't believe it. She remembered, better than anything she'd ever written, exactly what was in that particular letter. The passage of time hadn't dimmed her memory in the least. And he had actually read it? Honey told her a long time ago about his refusal to even accept the letter, let alone open it and view its contents. Good Lord but the fact that he had astounded her. She almost took a step back but forced herself to stand strong. Her voice was incredibly controlled while a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirled through her. "I remember now."

"It was quite a letter," he stated into the sudden, eerie quiet surrounding them. All that could be heard was the wet rain plopping against the ground. Letting her know that he'd finally read it wasn't enough. Not after everything that had happened between them. Deciding the most straightforward response was the best and only way to go, he murmured, "I'm sorry it took me so long to read it."

"No. No. There's no need for you to be sorry," she hastened to assure him through the roaring in her ears. She was having trouble believing that he had actually read her words, her attempt at an explanation for changing her plans so quickly and without notice. With the way she'd left him and Sleepyside, she hadn't actually expected the letter to survive, let alone see the light of any day or, in this case, night. It was almost unfathomable to her that it was still in existence. Her pretty face reflected her growing shock. "Please, Jim. Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

It was a much bigger deal than she realized. Deciding to let sleeping dogs lie for the moment, he chose not to share that he would have gone after her once his own feelings had calmed down. Instead, he focused on her response. Trust her to try and make him feel better about his foray into stubbornness. Always thinking of others, a trait he'd often admired in her. "I am sorry," he reiterated vehemently. "I should have read it sooner."

"If we're going to play that game, then I should have talked to you before I left," Trixie shot back quickly, unable to let him shoulder all the blame. In her mind, it had always been a fifty-fifty split, as much her fault as it was his. Until this moment she had never realized that the remorse also resided along the same chasm.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Even with the powerful kiss, the interrupted moment, and the shared confidences, the road still stretched out behind them, long and broken, and he didn't know how to repair all of the cracks and fractures to it or if they could ever be truly fixed. "Well," he began and stopped. There wasn't much else to say.

For once, they were in perfect agreement. She didn't have anything to add to it. "Well," Trixie repeated back, her mouth curving enough to bring out her dimples and a spark of amusement flaring in her eyes. The single word said so much.

Amazingly enough, her answer brought a short bark of laughter out of him. He didn't move forward. He didn't reach for her. But the relaxation he experienced was the most and the truest form in the longest of times. Not adding anything else to it, thinking more had been said in a few spoken words between them than in the years of stilted, polite conversation since that faraway summer, he put the next offer out there, a little unsteady, a little unsure, but ready to make it. "You know, since we are both leaving, we should actually make an attempt to get into contact with each other."

"I'm sure our friends get just a little tired of being our go-betweens." She held her thumb and index finger up, allowing only the tiniest bit of air to reside in-between them. All of the Bob-Whites weren't exactly fond of relaying messages between their former co-presidents. She knew it. He knew it. Both had relied on them since it had simply been the easiest way all around. Because their friends loved them, they had enabled it.

"I'm sure they are." He gave a curt shake of his head. Honey, the one they utilized the most, had told him the exact same thing on more than one occasion. She would appreciate a demotion in that particular job. "Honey programmed your numbers into my cell a while back."

Trixie's breath caught in her throat as the implication sank in. He meant to call. Hell, he wanted to call. Quietly, she admitted, "She did the same thing to me with yours. I have all of them."

"Good." He nodded once, glad to know that she had his information and took a small, almost involuntary step forward, unsure of what his exact motive for moving was. To touch, to hold, to kiss…he didn't exactly know. But his phone chirped, startling him back to reality. "Sorry," he mumbled as he pulled the phone out and read the impatient text message. He flipped the phone closed, tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans and faced her. His time was over. "It's from my dad. He wants his coffee." That wasn't all. Matthew Wheeler also wanted to get on the road before the traffic leading into the city got too congested.

"It's probably getting cold by now." She blew out a small breath and glanced up at the sky. The clouds were becoming much darker and more ominous looking, a natural indicator to the end of their time together. It wasn't going to be a pleasant spring rain for much longer. "Have a safe trip back to the city. It doesn't look like it's going to be a great day for you to drive."

"Or you to run. Are you sure you don't want a ride home?" When she gave a negative shake of her head, he didn't press it. "Enjoy your flight back to San Diego, Trix." Rooted to the ground, he didn't make a single move to move, only stared down into her face. She didn't look any more prepared to leave him, either. Unconsciously, he memorized every feature, from the sapphire blue of her eyes to the heightened color in her cheeks to her soft, full and alluring lips. Every little bit would help while he was in NYC and she was on the West Coast. With the high demands of his job and the uncertain hours she kept, there was no telling when their paths would cross again.

"I will." She smiled, a slow, small smile, for once on the exact wavelength as him. It was astonishing to see the same emotions reflecting back at her from his handsome face. "See you soon," she whispered, unable to make her voice go any louder.

_Not soon enough_ was the response he swallowed back. With a slight scowl marring his face, for the first time absolutely loathing the fact that he had to leave Sleepyside, he nodded and turned back to his SUV. "Soon," he repeated under his breath, hopefully, and trudged away. The fact that they both had extremely busy schedules that often did not coincide wasn't the most promising but he chose to overlook it. They had to see each other again. It would happen. Somehow.

Trixie didn't budge from her spot, shocked to her sweaty toes by his one word answer. She watched him climb into his vehicle, toss another glance her way and answered his wave with one of her own. Her heart cried out a silent protest when he closed the door. As Jim pulled out onto Glen Road and drove away, the rain began to pick up in earnest, a perfect mate for her emotions. It stung her skin but it didn't bother her. She welcomed the chill of it, the force of it, the sheer volume of it. Since evading raindrops wasn't an option, she ran straight through the downpour and followed the road that led to her house. Only one thought rattled around in her mind, becoming stronger with each pound of her feet. It practically begged to be uttered. Eyes narrowed, mouth twisted, she grumbled disconsolately, her mood in perfect accord with the clouds above, "Separate lives suck."

**This is the end of the second installment in The Breakaway Trilogy. The last story is titled The Broken Road. It will begin soon and is the final installment where all loose ends will be tied up. Thanks, as always, to Joyce, my sister and to Pam. I appreciate all your help so much! **


End file.
